


Reflecting Hope

by Flofliflou



Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: (so that Korkie is two years old in this), Anakin is a sweet kid, Angst, Angst and Feels, Choices, Duty, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Happy Ending, Inaccurate depiction of the illness, Jedi Code (Star Wars), Korkie Kryze is a Kenobi, Major Illness, Mending Relationship, POV Alternating, Padawan Anakin Skywalker, Questionable Decision, Reconciliation, Responsibilities, Secret revealed, Set a few months after TPM, Yoda has an epiphany, but I tinkered with the timeline a bit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-13 03:06:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 47,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28771323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flofliflou/pseuds/Flofliflou
Summary: I don’t have a choice, she reminded herself, her eyes glued to the temple Guardian standing proudly next to the main entrance.This was a no-return point, if she crossed these doors, she wouldn’t be able to take it back and she might possibly destroy the life of the one other person she held dearer than her own life…other than that of the vulnerable being in her arms. She tightened her hold. It was a risk she couldn’t avoid anymore. They were running out of time and she couldn’t do this on her own, not anymore.“Excuse me?” she addressed the closest Jedi Guardian she approached. She pretended not to be intimated by the uniform and before she could change her mind the next words were out of her mouth.“Would you be so kind as to tell me where I could find Jedi Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi?”*The one-year mission on Mandalore during Obi-Wan's padawan years had an unforeseen consequence. They haven't seen each other in three years - but Korkie is sick; Obi-Wan might be the only one able to save him anymore and Satine travels to the Jedi temple.Angst ensues. (but it's happy ending)
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Satine Kryze
Comments: 114
Kudos: 326





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I really enjoyed the Clone Wars and I adored Satine/Obi-Wan interactions. When I found out about that theory that made Korkie Obi-Wan's son, I ended up really liking the trope and the idea for this story just blossomed. 
> 
> Initially supposed to be a quickly written one-shot (joke's on me, I should have known better), it turned out to be five chapters + epilogue long, and took nearly a month to actually finish, but I'm glad I did. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy the story as much as I enjoyed writing it, and don't hesitate to tell me what you think! :D
> 
> P.s: I took tremendous liberties with the illness and the remedy needed - it's really not accurate.

Satine got off the ramp of the shuttle, holding a bag in one hand while the other rested around the two-year old bundled securely in a sling wrapped around her middle that pressed him against her chest. She tightened her embrace when he whimpered. 

Coruscant was loud. Noise was coming from everywhere, melting into a discordant symphony that assaulted her ears. She shushed the child gently, petting the back of his head. The effervescence of the planet had fascinated her the first few times she had visited and in other circumstances she might have been pleased to be back.

The sky of the city planet was a dark indigo, the day dead a long time ago, but neon lights were glowing everywhere, giving the illusion to be trapped in a kaleidoscope. She swallowed as she looked around, her muscles tense and exhaustion weighing heavily on her frame. The trip had lasted seemingly forever, and the little boy hadn’t calmed down one bit. She let out a shuddery breath as she glanced down at the paler than death little face, scrunched up in pain. She rubbed his back in a vain attempt at comfort, the toddler coughing dryly and she grimaced, brows furrowing in distress.

She swallowed it down, reporting her attention to her surroundings. She needed to find a transport. The shuttle had left them at the public space port and individuals of all species and gender were bustling around, going about their business and not paying any attention to them, which was just as well. 

Biting her lip, she craned her neck around, trying to find some clues as to what direction take. The space port was enormous, shuttles arriving and departing every few minutes, and she had trouble spotting the correspondence zone, or even an information desk. 

Out of options, she approached one of the port technicians, hoping to ask directly. She did not want to spend any more time than necessary outside and expose the baby to gods knew what. 

Her arms firmly around the small frame, she crossed the hangar bay until she was next to the idle technician. 

“Hello, excuse me –”

“I’m busy Ma’am,” he cut her off, turning away before she could even finish her sentence. Satine gritted her teeth at the blatant dismissal before she let out a breath. Gaze travelling around once more, she set to approach someone else, hoping they would be more helpful – or cordial – than the first. 

“Excuse me?”

The human male looked away from the datapad he was examining, giving her his bored attention. Refraining from letting a relieved breath, she quickly asked her question before he changed his mind. 

“I’m sorry to bother you, but how can I find a shuttle to get to the Jedi Temple please?” 

His head jerked back in surprise, staring at her dubiously, before his eyes travelled down to the bundle in her arms and back to her face. Satine didn’t let her self-consciousness nor the mounting annoyance at the scrutiny appear on her face. She could only imagine what explanation this man was conjuring up in his mind over her reasons to be looking for the temple. 

She forced her best Duchess smile, knowing it wouldn’t reach her eyes. She hadn’t smiled genuinely in a very long time. Enough time, that she didn’t remember the last time she had. Or maybe she did, but it hurt too much to think about so she banished the memory away, praying to whoever was listening that the man would help her. 

She needed to get to somewhere warm and safe. It wasn’t particularly cold, but it wasn’t her she was worried about. 

Eventually the man broke his suspicious stance and rolled his eyes. 

“Just go in that direction,” he pointed with his arm. “If you follow that lane you’ll find the information desk; they can tell you how to get to the temple with a public shuttle.”

She let out breath, her lips barely curling up in relief as she nodded her thanks, and didn’t waste any time swiveling around and crossing towards the spot the man had indicated. As promised, the information desk was there and lit up, a Twi’lek woman seemingly bored out of her mind behind the counter.

She perked up immediately at the sight of Satine and it amused the Mandalorian to think that the woman looked as if Satine was the best thing she’d ever seen. She was so excited to have someone to help that Satine had a paid taxi ready in barely a few minutes. She held onto the chip she’d been given and she strode over the taxi waiting area, her eyes searching for the lane which number was displayed on the chip. 

She scowled at the atrocious smell of the taxi when the driver opened the door, the seats saturated with old tabac and the smoke still swirling in the cabin. 

Once seated and the usual pleasantries exchanged, she found she couldn’t contain herself. The little boy had been coughing as soon as they’d set a foot in the speeder, a dry sound that Satine knew was only aggravating the irritation of his throat.

“Would you mind not smoking please?” she asked tersely. The driver threw an annoyed glance in the rear mirror, looking her in the eyes as if he was trying to evaluate how serious she was, and whether there was a chance she’d yield. 

He had no idea who she was and she only glared at him, knowing her face was the authoritative mask of Mandalore’s Duchess. He seemed to reach the correct conclusion because he threw the cigarra out the window with an unintelligible grumble, and really Satine would have protested throwing waste in such a way had she not been absolutely done with this trip. 

The toddler continued to cough, and it was no wonder. The taxi still reeked of the stench of tabac, lit up cigarra or not, to the point that Satine’s stomach nearly heaved, and she could only imagine how badly it affected him. Her eyes prickle as she took in the pained grimace that she’d never imagined she’d see on a two year old. 

She leaned back in her seat, letting her head fall against the head rest and she closed her eyes, trying to ignore the lump in her throat. She had been stretched thin for the last six months, barely able to sleep and utterly unable to keep any food down. She’d lost weight, a lot of it. 

Had she not already known that herself, the deeply worried frowns she elicited anytime someone saw her in the palace on Sundari would be a dead giveaway. The purple bags she sported under her eyes had not faded in all that time, and she knew she must look as pale as the moon of Mandalore. 

The trip to Coruscant hadn’t exactly helped. The baby boy in her arms had been impossible to calm down, strangled crying earning them death glares from the other passengers and she’d spent nearly the entire hyperspace travel rocking and shushing him, her eyes stinging with unshed tears she categorically refused to let fall. She was the Duchess of Mandalore, and she was stronger than that. Or at least, so she had been telling herself. She was starting to doubt that statement with each and every passing day that the little boy puked, cried, spent hours coughing or burned with fever. 

Had she been able to, she would have avoided this trip entirely, but she was out of option.

The taxi let them out on the large esplanade in front of the Temple, the large Ziggurat standing impressively tall and imposing, and Satine found she’d never felt so small. She swallowed with difficulty, her insides so tightly wound together they might as well have been one gigantic knot.

Steeling herself with a fortifying breath, Satine set to climb the last remaining stairs of the temple. She wasn’t entirely sure whether she was allowed to just go in, but she was rather at a loss as to what else she could possibly do and with each step the implications of what she was doing weighed on her like a heavy mantle.

_I don’t have a choice_ , she reminded herself, her eyes glued to the temple Guardian standing proudly next to the main entrance. 

This was a no-return point, if she crossed these doors, she wouldn’t be able to take it back and she might possibly destroy the life of the one other person she held dearer than her own life…other than that of the vulnerable being in her arms. She tightened her hold. It was a risk she couldn’t avoid anymore. They were running out of time and she couldn’t do this on her own, not anymore. 

“Excuse me?” she addressed the closest Jedi Guardian she approached. She pretended not to be intimated by the uniform and before she could change her mind the next words were out of her mouth. 

“Would you be so kind as to tell me where I could find Jedi Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi?” 

o.0.o

Obi-Wan popped his neck and back, and winced when he found he was unable to fully relieve the tension in his strained muscles. 

They’d been back from Naboo for about five months and in those five months, he felt like he’d been more active than in the previous twenty-five years of his life. He was still struggling to wrap his mind around it even now. The council had knighted him for defeating that Sith, and granted him permission to train Anakin. Since then he’d alternated between short missions here and there, and spending hours on end trying to explain the virtues of meditation to an over-excitable and hyperactive nine-year old who seemed to have the wrong definition for torture if the whining and complaints he had to listen to everyday were anything to go by. At least Anakin was catching up frighteningly quickly in Force training and lightsaber combat, the boy taking to every kata like a fish to water and it was obvious to Obi-Wan how much effort he poured into it. 

Obi-Wan dropped to the floor next to his fighter, just returning from a mission in a neighboring core planet regarding trade taxes. On top of being the worst kind of boring, it didn’t even have the redeeming quality of distracting him from the churning in his guts that seemed to permanently keep him on edge. 

He had trouble pinpointing exactly when it started, the last few months far too hectic for him to be able to find the unequivocal cause. He had originally thought it was the anxiety stemming from being newly knighted, already saddled with a nine-year old padawan so soon after the death of his own master. The nights in the weeks following Qui-Gon’s funerals had been plagued with nightmares – a normal occurrence according to the mind healer he’d forced himself to go and see, dragging Anakin along with him despite his protests.

But then the nightmares replaying Qui-Gon’s death had abated, Anakin had flourished after barely a few sessions with the mind healer and his focus had increased dramatically, while the deep pit in Obi-Wan’s stomach was still there. He had trouble sleeping but he couldn’t figure out why. He fell asleep just fine, but woke up utterly exhausted, his bed sheets in complete disarray as if he’d struggled during the night. 

A few days ago though, the reason for his distressed nights became apparent when he’d jackknifed up in his bed in a cold sweat. The nightmare was barely intelligible, blurred images that melted together and were virtually undiscernible from each other. A clinical, sterile white space; tears and coughing; a familiar smell he couldn’t place, soured by despair; anguish and distress; and as he woke up, a sense of dread coursing his veins like poison. This morning was the fifth time he woke up from the exact same dream and he was _tired_. 

He probably should talk about it to Master Yoda, he wasn’t sure how much longer he’d be able to continue going day by day pretending he wasn’t falling apart. He had no idea what the dream meant, but it made him feel cold and hollow, like something was being ripped away from him. 

“Master Kenobi?” 

Obi-Wan blinked out of his musings, eyes falling to the youngling standing at attention in front of him. “Yes?”

“Your presence is required in the Council chambers,” the youngling announced, looking inordinately proud of delivering the message. 

Obi-Wan would have smiled at her expression if he hadn’t been vaguely confused at the message itself. “I will go immediately, thank you,” he told the girl, freeing her from her temporary duty. 

Frowning, he set about going to the Council chambers. Standard procedure after such a non-priority mission meant he could have debriefed later in the day and not necessarily to the entire Council either. He couldn’t think of a single reason as to why his presence would be required so promptly after his return. 

For some reason, something in his guts clenched unpleasantly, and with each step he made towards the chambers, he felt the knot only tighten. He frowned again. He hadn’t felt such disturbance in the Force in quite some time and if that wasn’t already bizarre, he was the only one feeling it. No one around him seemed to be feeling anything out of the ordinary if the relaxed postures were anything to go by. 

Doing his best to dismiss it, Obi-Wan kept on walking the length of the mezzanine and up to the turbolift that would bring him up the Council tower, trying to think of something else. He’d have to let Anakin know he was back sooner rather than later – the boy had had a fit the last time Obi-Wan had tried to escape him for a day to rest. Apparently someone had told him that Obi-Wan was back and of course Anakin had understood the situation as ‘Obi-Wan hates me and doesn’t want to train me anymore’. He was not repeating the experience. 

Stepping off the lift, the sensation in his stomach only grew stronger and Obi-Wan had to swallow the wave of nausea, until his feet stopped out of their own volition, leaving him standing rigidly in front of the closed doors of the chambers. 

Now so close, Obi-Wan could easily make out the force signatures of all the Council members, which was not unusual per se, but what had him breathe shakily, was sensing another signature. A very, intimately familiar signature, and one he hadn’t felt in nearly three years – three long years that had been trying, full of bumps and slumps and had made Obi-Wan question all his life choices. 

Before he could make any conscious decision, his arms had reached forward and he’d slammed open the doors, entering the room bathed in the warm sunlight of Coruscant that illuminated a ghost. 

She swiveled at his entrance and his breath hitched when their eyes met. They were as blue as the last time he’d lost himself in them, but as opposed to the bubbling joy and affectionate sparkle, they were dull, clawing despair and gut-wrenching resignation tainting them. He saw her swallow, brows drawn together like she was about to cry and it reminded him to breathe. He took in a sharp, gasping breath, exhaling it shakily. 

She looked like she hadn’t slept in days. Her face was drawn, deep purple bags under her eyes only accenting the pallor of her face further. Her hair had lost its shine and was unkempt, longer than he’d ever seen it and held back in a haphazard bun in the back of her head. She was floating in her dress and Obi-Wan pinched his mouth. She’d obviously lost a lot of weight. 

He could see that she wasn’t holding herself any better than he did at their sudden re-acquaintance, but there was something else plaguing her. Her eyes were red with unshed tears she was obviously doing her absolute best not to let fall. 

Why was she here? 

He hadn’t seen her in three years, tried desperately not to think of her in three years. 

Three interminable years during which he had done his upmost best to be the perfect Jedi, strictly adhering to the code, spending hours on end practicing and meditating. And most of the time it was enough. Most of the time he didn’t fall into the rabbit hole, questioning a decision he’d made three years prior. 

Now seeing her here, pale as a ghost, made the blood pound in his head and the churning in his guts both better and worse. 

As his eyes glanced down, Obi-Wan froze, feeling the blood flee from his face and his heart drop like a stone to his stomach.

Satine’s expression grew impossibly worse, distress oozing from her as her hand dropped from the top of the bundle. 

“Obi-Wan,” she gasped out, still reigning in the tears valiantly. “I’m so sorry.”

o.0.o

“What’s going on?” he whispered, voice strangled as he looked desperately between her, her little boy and the rest of the council. 

She had hoped to speak with him before this could happen, but the Guardian she’d approached the night before had told her Jedi _Knight_ Kenobi was off-planet for a mission. A spark of joy and pride had lit up her face at that– he’d succeeded in his trials. He’d become a Jedi, like he’d always hoped. 

She would always remember how small and vulnerable he had looked when he had recounted the events that had driven Obi-Wan to pour all his heart and efforts into being the perfect embodiment of a Jedi; how he had nearly been shipped off to the Agricorp because no Jedi had wished to take him as his Padawan, until Qui-Gon had finally changed his mind. 

She had realized then, that her feelings for that witty Jedi learner were so far from platonic, to the point that she had trouble understanding how she could have deluded herself so long into thinking they were. 

She had felt like crying that day.

Because it hadn’t been the sole thing she had realized. 

Despite what she could feel burning in her heart, she never could have asked him to leave it all behind. She had seen him spar with Qui-Gon when they weren’t too busy running away and hiding. He had been glowing, exchanging blows expertly with the Master Jedi that both inspired the most profound exasperation for his disregard of their rules and the Jedi Code, and unbounded loyalty. Obi-Wan had worked his entire life for this; had sweat, bled, cried for this. He had told her, with his eyes sparkling and animation in his voice, how he wanted to travel to the far ends of the galaxy to help all who needed it. 

She hadn’t wanted to be the one robbing his future from him, taking away all he had worked so hard for. No matter what she felt, no matter what she suspected he might feel too, never could she have interfered with that. 

She still didn’t want to, and seeing him like this, face crumbling and increasingly frazzled, broke her heart. Oh gods, she had never wanted things to go this way.  
Korkie seemed to sense the mounting tension and he whimpered, snapping her attention back to his pale figure and her heart squeezed as she was reminded why she hadn’t had a choice. 

They had tried everything. All the treatments possible and imaginable, from leading-edge procedures to shamanic trances, Satine had looked everywhere, to no avail.

Korkie’s immune system was all but failing and the only thing that could potentially save him, was a successful bone marrow transplant. She wasn’t a match, neither was her estranged sister, who, despite their differences had still listened and come back to help, and their parents were dead. This had been one of her lowest point, being told unequivocally that there was nothing else they could do. That her two-year old son was dying, and all but living on borrowed time.

She had agonized over her decision for days on end, making herself sick in the process. But she never really had a choice, did she? 

When she had found out she was pregnant, Satine had nearly fainted in shock and ended up in a panic attack until her handmaiden had found her crumpled in the fresher. She had never meant for this to happen. She had lost count of how many times she had repeated that under her breath as she tried to wrap her mind around the implications. No amount of denial would change the reality of things however and when she’d finally stopped trying to persuade herself that it must have been a mistake, another realization had slapped her in the face. 

She couldn’t tell him. 

One hand had instinctively come cradling her lower stomach as she’d breathed in and out sharply, eyes vacant. He was to become a Jedi Knight, had been training for decades for that very purpose. He’d explained the code, she knew what it meant in practice. 

They’d already gone too far, and it was entirely her fault. When he had been scheduled to leave, the situation in Mandalore finally settled, they had shared one last meal together, Qui-Gon having left early because of an emergency back on Coruscant for which he was needed. 

She had been unable to shut her mouth, and before either one had made a conscious decision, he was kissing her. One night. She had asked for one night, and he’d given it to her, loving her, worshiping her body tenderly, slowly, reverently. 

She had ignored how her heart felt torn out of her chest as she had watched him leave, his eyes red and lips pursed. She had hold onto the memory of that night fondly, knowing it was all she would ever get, until that morning, frozen as she stare down at the little stick in her hand. 

She had made the gut-wrenching decision not to tell him then, to hide a life-altering secret from him. The guilt that had washed over her like a tidal wave had made her so sick, her doctors had feared she would lose the child. 

But she hadn’t. She’d pulled through, telling herself it was for the best even if she’d felt gutted a she laid her eyes on the tiny face for the first time. He should have been there with her, with them… But she couldn’t do that to him. And so she did it by herself. Korkie had grown up, hit all his milestones and brought her more joy than she could have ever imagined. Under the chubbiness of all babies, Korkie had her eyes, and his cheekbones and chin; her nose and his hair. A perfect blend of them both, and Satine loved him to the far ends of the Galaxy and back.

And then, six months ago, her bubble shattered. The healers didn’t give him more than a year. It was Obi-Wan leaving all over again. Satine had died a little with every passing day no cure was found. 

There was no guarantee Obi-Wan would be a match, but Satine was out of option, and if there was the slightest chance that he could save Korkie, well…there wasn’t much of a choice was there? 

Only now, it felt like she had made the biggest mistake of her life – hiding her son from his father. She had spent the last three years in a guilt-laden mindset and Obi-Wan had been kept away from her son’s life, all for nothing. Korkie was dying, Obi-Wan’s career was jeopardized and Satine felt like she was on her last thread.  
The lump in her throat was throbbing, and she wanted to crumble to the floor.

“Obi-Wan, come in,” who she knew was the Grand Master of the Jedi order, Master Yoda, invited him in. She couldn’t look away from Korkie but she felt him approach, felt his eyes still ricocheting between her and the little boy. 

“Satine,” he breathed out and her eyes snapped up without her consent, finding his without trying. His entire stance was questioning – she could detect his confusion, and yet see that he was already putting two and two together. Disbelief, acceptance, joy, realization, denial, betrayal, grief, emotions she could see battling on his face as he stared at her and Satine felt like she couldn’t breathe. 

“I’m so sorry,” she repeated, unable to conjure anything else. His eyes fell to Korkie again, staring at him like he couldn’t see him. 

He swallowed, face marred by gut-deep pain. “Is he…?” he whispered, unable to finish, gaze fleeting up to her. 

He must have read the answer in the anguish she knew was painted on her face because his breath hitched. “Oh Force,” he gasped, voice strangled as his hand shot up to his mouth, closing his eyes. 

Satine bit her lips nearly to the blood, trying to center herself by petting the back of Korkie’s head. 

The council members around them stayed silent but she had a vague idea of what she would see if she had been able to look away from Obi-Wan. They had been predictably shocked when she ended up revealing why she had to speak to Obi-Wan so urgently, outraged whispers and disbelieving murmurs exploding around her.

Their reactions had made her fear the worst – that they might turn her away before she could speak to Obi-Wan or something along those lines. Once Master Yoda had demanded they all calm themselves, their attention had quickly turned towards the well-being of her son, and she had nearly fainted in relief, only to have her world shift off its axis again when Obi-Wan had stepped foot in the room. 

Now he stood there, hand pressed against his mouth so strongly Satine would have feared he wasn’t breathing, if not for the erratic breaths she could hear coming in and out of his nose. He was on the edge of hyperventilating and Satine was rooted to the spot. A few agonizing seconds later, he removed his hand, although he was still breathing harshly. He bit his lip, his eyes closed, before he seemed to steel himself and turned to her, eyes shooting open. 

“He’s mine,” he said, voice strained but calm considering the circumstances. It wasn’t a question, but Satine found herself nodding slowly, feeling a modicum of relief that he wouldn’t pass out. She let the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding and took a step forward.

Carefully, she undid the sling, before meeting his eyes once more, silently asking and watching for his reaction. 

He moved minutely, a hint of understanding crossed his face as he opened his arms a little unsurely. Resolutely, she placed the barely conscious two-year old in his arms, Obi-Wan gathering the little boy with ease and natural, as if he’d been doing it since Korkie was born. The though made her swallow with difficulty but she dismissed it. 

His face softened considerably, a very small and shy smile appearing on his lips, and her heart squeezed. 

“His name is Korkie,” she told him softly, her hand remaining on the back of her – their – son’s head, unable to quite let go. 

He let out a small puff of hair, like he couldn’t believe it was really happening. “Hello Korkie.”

o.0.o

The little boy’s weigh settled comfortably in his arms, and Obi-Wan couldn’t wrap his mind over how absurdly familiar it felt to hold him in such a way.  
He had trouble wrapping his mind over a lot of things actually. It seemed his very understanding of reality had been turned upside down, as if everything he’d ever known was suddenly proved false and the most unbelievable things were now undeniably true while he was the only one surprised.

He let out a breath, heart hesitating between hammering its way out of his ribcage or stopping entirely. 

He had a son. 

His eyes stung and he swallowed hard, his hand reaching up to touch the little cheek. He didn’t realize he was reaching out with the Force until he was met with something he hadn’t expected, and he frowned deeply, a wave of nausea sweeping over him. 

The little boy, Korkie, was Force-sensitive, there was no doubt about it; but his presence felt…diminished, weak and oh so vulnerable, like it was hanging onto its last thread. He rejected violently the implication his mind conjured, feeling dizzy suddenly and he could only stare more intently at the son he hadn’t known existed. 

He could barely pay attention to the features he recognized from Satine and himself, unable to dwell on the elation the knowledge that they had made him inspired.

He was pale. Deathly so; an unhealthy pallor instead of the rosy cheeks one could expect from a child this age and complexion. He seemed barely conscious, and not in the reassuring, expected way a toddler would doze off when tired. His breathy was wheezy and somewhat ragged, and Obi-Wan frowned deeper when he coughed a few times, his little face scrunching up each time, as if in pain. 

He swallowed, the explanation of his mind fighting its way forward. 

“What– why is he…” he tried, and found himself unable to continue, eyes shifting from the small weight in his arms to the only woman he’d ever truly loved.

She seemed to be ready to crumble and she let out a breath, her entire frame sagging as she obviously caught on to what he meant. She gave him a pleading look, the despair and grief battling for precedence, a flicker of hope that could barely prove she hadn’t completely given up. 

“He’s dying,” he let out, a sob tearing through her, and she lost the battle against the tears she’d so valiantly fought so far. They rolled down her cheeks as the sobs wracked her frame and Obi-Wan thought he was the one who died right this moment. “He’s dying and I tried everything… I can’t save him; I’m so sorry… I didn’t know what else to do… I can’t lose him, Obi-Wan, I can’t lose him too. I can’t, I can’t…”

The last pleads were muffled, Obi-Wan reacting instinctively as he reached out one arm and pulled her against him and their son. She went willingly, readily, her hands gripping the fabric of his tunic like he was the only thing holding her up anymore and she cried and cried, brokenly repeating her pleas and Obi-Wan closed his eyes, forehead falling on the top of her head, heart in his throat. 

The day he met his son, might also be the day he would lose him. 

The thought pushed its way forward and threatened to make him faint. His head swam for a few moments, his lungs burning as he pressed Satine against him. He could practically _taste_ her anguish, the distress so stark, so potent it nearly made his knees buckle. 

Obviously, Korkie felt it too, for he whimpered once more, a pitiful sound that made Obi-Wan want to weep. The toddler blearily tried to open his eyes, obviously searching for his mother. Satine’s head had shot up at the sound and she stared at their son, her face drenched in tears. Korkie didn’t seem frazzled to be pressed against an unfamiliar chest, and instead lifted his little arm laboriously to settle his palm against his mother’s cheek. 

Satine let out another sob, grabbing the tiny hand and kissing it tenderly, before bending and kissing Korkie on his forehead for several seconds, her eyes closed and her face reflecting the distress pulsing in the Force, obvious for all of them in the room.

“To the halls of healing, the three of you should go. Test you, we must Obi-Wan.” 

Obi-Wan snapped his head to Master Yoda, like he was suddenly remembering they weren’t alone. 

He felt all the gazes of the Council members on him and Obi-Wan grimaced, the implications of what was happening slamming in his face like a wild rancor. And yet, he couldn’t bring himself to care. 

“Yes Master,” he replied with a bow once he got his head together, before he added in a quiet voice solely destined to Satine who was still held close against him: “Come on.”

She looked dazed for a moment, as if she had tried to hold on for too long and she was just now letting go, making her grip on reality fuzzy. Eventually she nodded mutely, her eyes not leaving Korkie. Her sobs had abated and Obi-Wan felt her stiffen subtly as he slowly led her outside of the Council chambers and it made his throat tight. 

He hadn’t seen her in three years. And now she was here, completely unannounced, with a son Obi-Wan hadn’t know the existence of before this very moment. These musings only brought him to think of the reason she was here. 

That little boy was dying. It was the sole and unique reason she was here at all. Had she come to ensure Obi-Wan knew him before he died? He tightened his jaw.  
How could she be so cruel? 

He didn’t release his hold over her shoulder, but he knew she realized how tense he grew. How could she do something like that? Hide their son’s existence, and introduce them when there wasn’t any hope anymore, essentially letting the boy be ripped away from him before he could even wrap his mind around the fact that he was someone’s _father_. 

The dreams suddenly came back to him, assaulting his senses for barely a second, with a striking clarity that made his mind reel. He felt sick for a moment. Waking up to this sense of dread, this hollowness like something was being taken away from him…

For days, he’d been dreaming of this child’s, _his_ child’s death… 

Obi-Wan felt his chest grow tight and it was all he could do to take as deep a breath as he could. All considerations for the Code he had sworn an oath to all but gone, a wave of incandescent, corrosive anger washed over him. She had _hidden_ him away from him and now he’d never get the chance to know his son at all. It was over before it had begun… 

Before he could go further down that path, they arrived at the halls of healing, and Satine seamlessly parted from him, grabbing Korkie carefully to press against her and Obi-Wan felt the loss far more acutely than he’d ever felt anything. He felt like he’d been punched as she closed the distance to the reception desk, leaving him behind. Again. 

He let out a slow breath, shaking his head to try and get out of his own head. It never did him any good to stay stuck there too long. 

He was supposed to… What was he supposed to do? Why were they here? Had Satine come to the temple because she thought perhaps the Jedi had techniques the healers she’d consulted didn’t know? 

Master Yoda’s words came back to him. _“Test you, we must Obi-Wan”_.

That made him pause, only realizing now that he’d barely paid any attention to what had been said in the Council chambers. 

“Obi-Wan?”

He jerked back to reality, eyes shifting to Satine who was standing next to Bant, both of them looking expectantly at him, as if they’d already asked a question he hadn’t heard.

“I’m sorry, what?” he blurted out, feeling completely out of the loop as he approached the two women. 

“Are you coming?” Bant asked genially. Satine’s gaze was vacant, as if she was lost somewhere very far away and couldn’t pay attention to anything around her. Her arms were tightly wound around Korkie who seemed once more to have slipped out of consciousness. Obi-Wan tried not focusing on that.

“I’m sorry, I’m very confused. What are we doing?” he asked tersely, eyes worriedly moving away from Satine and to Bant. 

His question must have triggered something in his former–… in Satine, because she was now staring at him like he’d grown a second head. He resisted the urge to shift under her gaze and looked to Bant who took it all in stride, obviously used to deal with confused people. 

“We need to test you to see if you are a match with Korkie, Obi-Wan,” she explained in a patient, calm, well-practiced tone. 

“A match?” he intelligently repeated. Satine’s face was back to the mask of anguish she had sported in the chambers and the change only added to Obi-Wan’s own confusion and distress. What was going on here? 

One minute he came back from mission and the next he felt like he’d just been thrown off the top of the Tranquility Spire, his past rushing back to haunt him in the absolute worst way possible. He’d never thought he’d see her again… And yet here she was and, Force, Obi-Wan was so lost. 

“For Korkie,” Satine pushed out, her voice breaking on the name and Obi-Wan’s heart squeezed at seeing her eyes fill with tears again. “I’m so sorry Obi-Wan… I never wanted this to happen. You’re his last chance,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper like she was afraid they would shatter if she spoke too loudly. 

He blinked and before he could grapple at the situation, Bant came to the rescue. 

“Korkie has an immune disease that is killing him,” she explained in a gentle tone, as if it could compensate for the dread that filled Obi-Wan at hearing this repeated. “The only thing that can _potentially_ save him,” she continued and Obi-Wan saw Satine close her eyes slowly at the specific wording, “is if you are a match and agree to donate some bone marrow for a transplant.”

“Please Obi-Wan,” Satine pleaded, a sob tearing through her as she did so. “Please, you’re his last chance.”

It took a second for Obi-Wan’s mind to wrap around what Satine was saying, and when he did, what she meant slapped him across the face and he was left winded.  
“Are you– you think I would say _no_?” he let out incredulously as he stared at her with horrified eyes. 

She closed her mouth, swallowing with difficulty, her eyes not leaving him. 

He scoffed in disbelief. He couldn’t believe her. Did she not know him at all? How could she believe him capable of such a thing? How did she dare presume he would deny _her_ help; that he would deny his son? 

“I can’t believe you Satine,” he bit out. Her face scrunched up, biting her lip. She looked like she was waiting on an executioner and Obi-Wan felt sick. She could have spat in his face, he wouldn’t have felt more insulted. 

He had never told her no. Could never tell her no. 

Had she asked for more than one night back then, Obi-Wan knew he would have said yes. She was the only woman he had ever loved, the one person besides Qui-Gon and perhaps Anakin, he’d really, truly loved more than anything else in his life. How had things come to this? When had he given her the impression that he would reject her? 

Letting out a breath, he took a moment to try and calm himself, unwilling to let anger gain him again. It wouldn’t do any good. This situation was already tense enough as it was, no need to add oil to the fire. 

“How can you think I could ever deny you help Satine?” he asked softly, looking straight into her blue eyes. _How can you think I could deny you anything_ was what he didn’t say, but if her crumbling expression was anything to go by, she’d understood him perfectly. 

o.0.o

Seeing his pleading eyes made Satine nearly cry again. She’d never meant to hurt him so… She’d destroyed everything, and now she might still lose the two most precious beings in her life despite her best effort to protect them. 

She gasped in a breath, opening her mouth to answer him, to say something, anything… But she was tongue-tied, the lump in her throat throbbing and she found herself incapable of pronouncing a single word. 

She watched him sigh in defeat, shoulders deflating as his face morphed into a resigned mask that she hated instantly. 

“It doesn’t matter,” he whispered so lowly that she wondered whether he’d meant for her to hear it or not. “Bant, I’m ready, let’s just go test me.”

Satine could have fainted in relief at the words. 

The healer, Bant she had told her to call her, nodded readily, her perfect composure not sliding off an iota and she gestured for Obi-Wan and Satine to follow her.

Satine did, feeling like she was floating in a delirium. It wasn’t a pleasant feeling. Obi-Wan was walking ahead of her, his shoulders tense and slumped and she bit her lip, her guilt only knotting her stomach further. She had never meant to hurt him, she hadn’t… That thought only left an ashy taste in her mouth. It didn’t matter what she had or hadn’t wanted, it didn’t change the fact that he had hurt him. She swallowed. 

She was just so desperate… She had had to watch Korkie writhing in pain for months, his little face scrunched up in a permanent grimace when it wasn’t drenched in tears, and the pleas for it to stop that turned silent when her son could barely bring himself to speak anymore. 

She hadn’t thought Obi-Wan would say no, she knew he wasn’t the kind of person who would… But she was terrified out of her mind and as powerless as she had been in the last few months, begging and praying were the only remedies she had left. 

Soon enough they were in a more secluded area, where they were both directed to sit. 

“I’ll start with Korkie first,” Healer Bant declared in the same soft voice she’d been using since Satine had approached her, her eyes focused on preparing her equipment. 

Satine didn’t react much, besides keeping the soothing up and down motion on her son’s back. She was more than used to these procedures by now, even if she didn’t like it any more now than she had in the beginning. 

When Healer Bant came closer, Satine shifted the little boy so that his side would be pressed against her chest instead of his front, to enable her easier access to his arm for the blood test. She swallowed when Korkie barely reacted at the little pinch in his arm, and she pressed down a kiss on the top of his head. A minute later it was done, and Healer Bant efficiently labelled the sample, and moved on to proceed with Obi-Wan, who’d already pushed his sleeve up. 

“I’ll have the results in an hour,” she announced once both samples were sent with a droid to be analyzed. “I’d like to do a full check on your little boy. We could perhaps make him more comfortable.”

Satine’s chest immediately grew tight at the perspective of letting Korkie go out of her sight, but one glance down at the pale face and her decision was already made, no matter how haywire it made her instincts go. Closing her eyes slowly, she nodded in resignation. 

All her hackles went up as Healer Bant opened her arms, but Satine swallowed the gut-deep reluctance. She set to transfer the little boy in Healer Bant’s waiting arms and with one last, long kiss to Korkie’s head, she handed him over gently, feeling like her heart was being ripped out of her chest. 

She closed her fists, feeling her nails dig into the flesh as she watch her son being brought to a different room and she didn’t realized she’d let out a sob until she heard a sigh behind her, and a comforting hand on her shoulder. 

The guilt that assaulted her at that – how could he still have it in himself to be so gentle with her? – only made her want to let the tears spill over again. The illusion of control she’d done her absolute best to maintain alive since this whole debacle started was all but shattered in a million pieces around her and it was all she could do not to drop on the spot. 

She was _tired_. 

“Come on,” Obi-Wan breathed out, squeezing her shoulder and her eyes fluttered shut as she grimaced at the churning in her stomach. “Do you have a room?”  
She nodded her head mutely. She’d arrived at the temple late and a Jedi had shown her to a room where she had barely had spent any time at all before she was whisked away to the Council. 

“Let’s go then.”

She let him direct her steps, her mind parsecs away. She needed to explain herself. The deception was exploded around them, all out in the open, she felt its shards digging in her side a little more every moment that passed. 

She’d never deluded herself into thinking she wouldn’t have to explain. She’d come to Coruscant ready to do so. 

It might not change anything. The damage was already done and might be far beyond any repairs but she hoped, still hoped that perhaps, she could make him see why she’d done what she did. 

She had to make a choice, and she made it. She had lived with the consequences of that choice ever since, but Satine thought she might have underestimated how stark and heavy these consequences would be, now that she was seeing the damages in Obi-Wan’s expression. The biggest regret she’d ever have, would be that in the process, she’d turned him in the biggest casualty. 

She startled when he stopped right in front of her. 

“Which room is it?” 

She hadn’t realized that she’d spaced out, the entire walk from the Halls of healing passing in a daze. 

Shaking her head, she focused and took the lead this time, bringing them in front of the right door. When she struggled with the keypad, he assisted without a word, entering the combination she gave him and opening the door. 

Ever the gentleman, Obi-Wan stepped aside to allow her to enter first, which she did with a furtive glance at him. His face was expressionless, his eyes dead and it had the effect of a slap to the face. She looked away, unable to sustain that look. 

The room she had been given was well, yet modestly, furnished; utilitarian-centered rather than aesthetic-oriented. Satine didn’t care in the least and she found that her gaze yet again only brushed over the room, not stopping on anything, as she mulled over her next words. 

When Obi-Wan spoke first, it felt like someone had tugged the rug from underneath her feet and she swiveled around to face him. She almost wished she hadn’t.  
“Why didn’t you tell me?”

The mask was still in place but she could already see it tearing at the seams, his eyes betraying him. She could only stare at the blue-grey irises that used to be full of life and now were full of pain. 

“Would you even have told me, had he not been–” he trailed off with a gasp, unable to finish his sentence and Satine’s heart ache.

She couldn’t answer that. She didn’t know the answer to that. 

“Why?” he repeated, his voice gaining in intensity, like the rumbling of a rising tide. He let out an exasperated, pained breath when she shook her head, throat tight and she jumped at the next strangled exclamation. “Damn it Satine!” 

“I don’t understand! Why would you hide such a thing from me? I thought… I thought it had meant something to you, I thought… Force, I don’t even know what I thought,” he let out, his voice dripping with sarcasm that cut Satine to the core. 

“It did,” she managed to say, realizing tears were welling in her eyes again. “Obi-Wan, I promise it did.”

“What then?” he shot back, voice rising an octave and the mask finally shattering, his face suddenly the devastating painting of Satine’s failure, what she’d destroyed and she wrung her hands together so tightly she swore she couldn’t feel them anymore.

“What, did you think I wouldn’t make a good father? Did you think I wouldn’t be good enough–“

“No!” she cut him off, horrified. He stared at her with a disbelieving expression, anguish and distress equally marring his ordinarily so calm and composed face and Satine’s heart was in her throat. 

This was entirely her fault. She’d done this. 

“Obi-Wan, I never thought this! I could _never_ think that,” she managed to say between erratic breaths as the tears finally fell free. She found his eyes, pushing all the honesty she was capable of in them, pleading him to believe her. 

“What else am I supposed to think?” he tried to scoff, but it sounded weak, to both their ears. “What did I do to make you think I wouldn’t have helped, that I wouldn’t have been there for you _and_ for him?” 

Satine looked at him pleadingly, daring a step forward but he jerked back violently, making the tears fall faster. “Nothing,” she sobbed, shaking her head.

“Then why?” he repeated, arms extending away from his body in a wide gesture. 

She clenched her eyes closed and the words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. “I knew you’d stay!” 

The silence that answered them was so loud it was deafening. Satine opened her eyes, to find Obi-Wan staring at her like he’d never seen her in his life. 

For a reason she couldn’t pinpoint, that bolstered her forward and she sniffed, rubbing her hands over her eyes. 

“I knew you would have stayed, back then,” she reiterated more assertively. This was it, she had to give him something now before this escalated further. The atmosphere in the room was sizzling with tension, their emotions raw, exposed and frayed. She couldn’t make it worse. She hoped.

“You were training to be a Jedi, Obi-Wan. You’d told me about the Code,” – he scoffed and she cut him off before he could butt in, stating sharply: “I knew what becoming a Jedi meant to you, Obi-Wan.”

He shut his mouth, eyes still bulged out, and lips parted. 

“You _wanted_ to become one– it was your entire life,” she continued, ignoring the sharp tug at his heart at the reminder. She took in a sharp breath. “I knew you cared about me, and I knew by asking you to stay, even hypothetically, you might have said yes.” 

His face flashed raw pain before it grew hard and cold, but she plowed on. She couldn’t stop now, she owed him at least that. 

“I didn’t want to step between you and the one thing you’d been training so hard for so long, the one thing you wanted to be, the one thing you wanted to do. It was your dream Obi-Wan.”

“Dreams can change,” he retorted stubbornly, betrayal shining in his eyes and it made the lump in her throat only more painful. 

“At what cost, Obi-Wan? Eventually you’d have resented me and the choice to leave the Jedi Order behind. It would have made us both miserable.”

He crossed his arms tightly, looking like he was hugging himself, his jaw working before he managed to speak, tone mutinous. “You don’t know that.”

“Maybe not,” she conceded, automatically mirroring his position without thinking. “But I didn’t want to take the risk to rob this from you. I couldn’t, Obi-Wan.”  
He averted his eyes quickly, but Satine didn’t miss the hint of resentment in Obi-Wan’s eyes. 

“No instead you robbed my son away from me,” he retorted bitterly and Satine could only take the accusation, her eyes fluttering close. She deserved that. And it only made it worse to swallow. 

“I didn’t know I was pregnant when you left.”

He scoffed, a dry and merciless sound. “Because that makes it better?” he snapped. “It’s not like you couldn’t have sent me a message when you discovered it! I wasn’t particularly hard to find Satine!”

“I know, I understand that–”

“No you don’t,” he cut her off, voice eerily calm and Satine knew she’d made a terrible mistake. He took a step forward, one hand on his hip and the other pointing at her. “You don’t understand Satine, because out of the two of us, you’re not the one who’s just discovered he was a parent, only to be told that the only reason said parent knows he’s a parent at all is because his son is dying!”

His words gutted her just as much as the way he hissed them, the truth of their reality echoing around them, taunting them. She’d never seen him so angry, eyes blazing with fury and despair. She gasped in a breath, looking away until she forced herself to face him again.

Her words were failing her. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered and he let out a humorless chuckle, a bitter sound that pierced her.

He turned away, both hands on his hips now, and looked skywards as if he couldn’t bear to look at her anymore, biting his lips. Paralyzing silence stretched between them, and it was suffocating. But somehow, his next words were worse. 

“I didn’t care about you Satine. I loved you.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the kudos and comments!! <3
> 
> Happy reading!

_“I didn’t care about you Satine. I loved you.”_

His words hung in the air like static ozone tossed by lightning. He wasn’t looking at her – he _couldn’t_ – but he heard her sharp intake of breath, and the ripple of anguish in the Force was strong enough that Obi-Wan nearly closed the distance to engulf her in his arms to make it stop. 

He was trembling with the strength of his emotions, shaken to the core by the unfolding events that threatened all the certainties he’d clung to since he’d left Mandalore three years ago. If he hadn’t been able to sense her turmoil just as clearly as he was swept violently in his own, Obi-Wan knew he could have been far more cutting, far more vicious in the expression of his resentment. 

But even then, this was Satine. Obi-Wan would have been incapable of allowing any harm to come to her, in any shape or form, much less be the one to inflict it, no matter how angry and hurt he might be. 

But the choice she had made; that willful decision to hide such a momentous secret from him burned so deeply, that Obi-Wan felt like someone was driving a lightsaber through his heart over and over again. He knew she was right – he would have abandoned it all behind him had she only asked. Even as he was standing at the top of the boarding ramp of his transport back to Coruscant, had she said the word, he would have left the Jedi Order and stayed. 

The thought only made it harder to swallow the pain of the deprivation her decision was provoking. 

Becoming a Jedi had been his entire life – like it was for the majority of the younglings raised in the crèche. Obi-Wan had known nothing else, glimpsing at a different world only when on missions, and never had he thought he might have been happier in other circumstances, until he’d met her. 

Her attitude had rubbed him the wrong way as soon as he’d laid eyes on her, and he suspected the reverse was equally true, considering they had constantly butted heads in masterful displays of witty stubbornness nearly as early as greeting each other. He’d thought her arrogant and cold, and he could only imagine what she’d thought of him. He supposed being on the run for nearly a year, camping out in the open in the most unlikely places, and so far away from both of their comfort zones, had been the best way to crack through both their shells. 

He couldn’t recall when he’d realized that he had fallen, completely, utterly and irrevocably in love with her. The feeling had crept up on him as each new day was born, as each one died, slowly and unnoticeably, until it was undeniable and as intense as the twin suns of Tatooine. 

Suddenly, her stubbornness wasn’t solely maddening, but endearing too; her cold exterior hid warm affection she did not bestow just anyone; her arrogance hid a desire to prove herself that pushed her to do her utmost best by her people. She was the same, and yet more. It was easier and harder to stand in her presence, for with each passing day he had craved that presence like a parched man craved water and yet, it only made him fall deeper, faster. 

When she’d asked for a night, Obi-Wan knew he was lost. He would have given her so much more, but he would take what she would give. 

She hadn’t asked him to stay. 

She had watched him leave with what could have been believed to be the same stoic expression she’d worn the first time they had met, if not for the deep seated emotions that had shown in her eyes, the ones she’d given freely that night and the ones he had taken for the proof of mutual affection. Leaving hadn’t been nearly as hard as the awareness that she hadn’t asked him to stay. 

The newly acquired knowledge that she still hadn’t reached out to him after discovering what their night together had let to, cut Obi-Wan more deeply than any wound he’d ever received, a voice in his mind so quick to snarl its venom at him, whisper that it had never meant nearly as much to her than it had to him. 

He remembered how enthused he had been about sharing with her, his experience at the Jedi temple, training under Qui-Gon and the perspective of becoming a full-fledged Jedi knight. The memory that used to be wrapped in brilliant light seemed tarnished now, fragmented and left a bitter taste in his mouth. 

That had been the catalyst for the decision she had made. He tried desperately to put himself in her place, to try and leave behind, for even a second, his own cocoon of hurt to contemplate her reasoning. It didn’t make him feel better. If anything, it made him feel worse because a part of him could understand. 

The rest of him violently rebelled against that new found revelation and fought back with a vengeance.

It hadn’t been her decision to make! 

She pretended she hadn’t wanted to force him to choose, but she had taken his choice away from him, and the shambles of what could have been now laid at his feet like ravaged ruins. 

Obi-Wan thought of Korkie, _his_ son, and he could barely breathe. If he wasn’t a match, if he couldn’t save the little boy, Obi-Wan didn’t know what he would do, and his dream still as vivid and fresh in his mind as if he’d just woken up from it, only reminded him the devastating effect such a loss could have. 

Back then though, he at least had had the consolation of believing it to be a figment of his unconscious, only a dream, to be forgotten the next day. He let out a shuddering breath, the glimpses of a gaping hole that threatened to tear his chest open rearing its ugly head at the perspective of losing the little boy before he could have the chance of knowing him. 

He glanced back at her. She hadn’t moved, her arms were hugging her middle tightly and her head was lowered. Her eyes were nailed to the floor but even from where he stood, he could see they were bloodshot and puffy, tear tracks still visible on her cheeks, and her lips were drawn into a thin line that nearly made her mouth disappear.

For all that he was angry and desperately out of his depths, trying to grasp a situation that seemed to be running away from him, he couldn’t bear to see her so obviously distressed. And yet, for these very same reasons, he couldn’t bring himself to do anything about it. 

That confusion only left him frustrated, and he let out a sigh, closing his eyes for a moment, knowing full well he wasn’t going to be able to escape this situation long enough to regain a modicum of control over his own feelings to the point of being steadier, rather than with the impression that he was sinking in quick sands.  
His comlink chimed, breaking the heavy silence of the room, and bringing him back to reality. A deep-seated exhaustion washed over him at seeing the sender ID. 

_Anakin_. 

Only now did Obi-Wan realize how much time had passed since he’d arrived back at the temple. 

Yet again, Anakin must have heard from someone else that he was back and he didn’t have the energy to try and imagine what his reaction must have been. 

“Is it the healer?” Satine broke her mutism and he resisted the urge to snap. Now she wanted to say something. 

But he didn’t. He couldn’t, because he knew exactly the feelings that prompted her to ask in that incongruous mixture of hope and desperation.

“No, my padawan,” he managed to keep his voice entirely neutral, and he might have been proud of himself for that if he hadn’t been sidetracked by her surprise. He could sense she refrained from voicing it, the question on the tip of her tongue. 

“That’s remarkable, Obi-Wan,” was what she settled for. 

Somehow, her acknowledgement, and the hints of pride he could hear in her tone only made him more pricklish. It felt like she was trying to justify the decision she had made by flattering him. It glared at him with the same despicable annoyance stemming from an “I told you so”. 

“Qui-Gon should have trained him,” he retorted a little tartly and doing his best to ignore the little flinch. 

“Yes… I was very sorry to hear of his…” she trailed off, and when he glanced at her, he saw her visibly struggle to form the next word. She must have given up because she deflated, closing her mouth, her lips curled down. 

He swallowed, letting out a huffed sigh as he passed his hand over his face. He felt like the entire weight of the starsystem was on his shoulders. 

“I have to go check up on him,” he said after a moment spent vainly trying to gather his thoughts. 

She blinked, visibly jarred out of her own thoughts – which, considering the turbulence of her force signature, probably weren’t any more pleasant than his – before she bobbed her head in acknowledgement, trying and failing miserably to smile. 

He sighed. “I’ll come back to get you when Bant pages me.” 

“Alright, thank you,” she murmured back, her arms minutely tightening around her middle. 

He nodded reflexively before he crossed the space leading to the door. He needed to get some fresh air, and he needed a distraction. 

He was nearly out the door when her voice cut through the silence, her words unwittingly dealing a devastating blow to Obi-Wan. 

“I loved you too, you know.”

He froze, heart skipping a beat before it rose to his throat and it felt clogged up with emotions so potent, he never imagined he could feel them while staying upright. He let out a sharp breath before gritting his teeth, his eyes stinging. 

When Obi-Wan left without a backward glance, he felt like the biggest coward in the galaxy. 

***

Quite unsurprisingly, Anakin was to be found in the Room of a Thousand Fountains. Obi-Wan didn’t know why he was surprised anymore. Anytime he had to find his wayward padawan, he only had two obvious options: in his room, tinkering on some old droid parts, or in this very hall. 

Anakin had declared that if he had to stay still for hours to meditate, might as well do it in a place that was the epitome of serenity. Obi-Wan had no idea where he’d heard the word ‘epitome’ when five months ago half his sentences were composed of the single word exclamation “wizard” but Obi-Wan couldn’t complain at the change, nor argue with that logic. 

As expected, Obi-Wan found Anakin near one of the smaller cascades, sitting crossed legged with his eyes closed, attempting to meditate. Key word, attempting. With how bright the boy shone in the Force, Obi-Wan could feel all the way from the entrance of the room how his emotions and thoughts were all over the place, jumping from one point to the next, exploding, re-centering, only to do it all over again in a maddening loop. Obi-Wan couldn’t blame him for despising meditation when this was what he had to deal with, but he wasn’t about to tell him that and give him more ammunition for his ‘anti-meditation’ argument. 

Anakin sensed him approach and his eyes snapped open, before he jumped to his feet and closed the distance between them in a maddening dash. 

“Obi-Wan! You promised to tell me when you came back!” he nearly whined with an expression that reminded Obi-Wan of a kicked puppy. 

“I know I did, Anakin. I apologize, I was… sidetracked.” 

Understatement of the year. His chest still felt like it’d been pummeled by a herd of mad banthas.

Anakin immediately grew suspicious, furrowing his brows as he stepped back a fraction, looking, for all intents and purposes, like he was dissecting Obi-Wan’s face. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked in a small voice, like he was afraid speaking any louder might spook Obi-Wan. 

Despite the swoop of his stomach at the unwittingly loaded question, Obi-Wan couldn’t help but smile. Too perceptive for his own good, that boy. His expression must have tipped off Anakin because if possible he grew even more suspicious, pursing his lips and narrowing his eyes as if getting ready to spot a lie.

Obi-Wan didn’t lie, but he wasn’t above half-truths and circumvolutions. 

“More than I wished, Padawan,” he said solemnly, knowing that nothing else but the truth would appease Anakin’s curiosity. It didn’t mean he wanted to talk about it. Though as nosy as the boy was, he was more tactful than given credit for. 

He fixed Obi-Wan with an intense look, before he seemed to accept the answer for what it was and nodded. It made Obi-Wan smile, vaguely assuaging the shame and turmoil he felt over the whole mess unravelling around him and he sought to elongate that feeble distraction for as long as he could. The best way to do that was to let his personal chatter box on the loose. 

“How was your week?” 

Anakin perked up immediately, his expression brightening as he launched himself in the tale, even as Obi-Wan gestured for him to sit. 

He went over the smallest details of his lessons, whom he’d spoken to, how the session with the mind healer had gone, how his learning katas was going, and despite Obi-Wan’s protests that he believed him when Anakin said he had mastered the most complicated sequence of Shii-Cho, he’d still shot up to his feet to demonstrate it. 

Obi-Wan would lie if he denied to be more than a little pleased to see that Anakin’s depiction of his newfound mastery was not exaggerated and found that he had no correction to make. 

And for a little while, Obi-Wan felt subtly calmer – his anxiety was still simmering in the pit of his stomach and coursing his blood, but it was subdued by Anakin’s carefree presence, the easy conversation and the calm and serenity of the room. 

The water bubbled gently in the fountains, cascaded over rock formations in the midst of the thriving and ethereal flora of leafy exotic trees and blooming lush flower bushes. It was easy to get lost in the peace of the room, and Obi-Wan had never been more grateful to have access to such a treasure on the otherwise dry city planet.  
Anakin was talking about the color of the still hypothetic lightsaber he would build after visiting Ilum, philosophizing over the pros and cons of green versus blue, and wondering if he could potentially imitate Master Windu and go for purple without ending up on the wrong end of a glare for copying the Korun master. 

Obi-Wan might have chuckled, persuaded by the calmness radiating from the room to lighten up somewhat, when his bubble was burst in a chorus of irritating buzzing, as his comlink chimed in, shooting him back down to reality. 

_The results_. 

He needed to go back to the Halls of Healing, and before that, get Satine. Obi-Wan rationally knew that delaying the conversation wouldn’t change the results Bant would announce, but now that he was facing the prospect of learning whether or not his bone marrow could save his son, he felt like he was being sent to the lowest circle of hell. 

Anakin kept talking next to him, but Obi-Wan had unwittingly tuned it down from the moment the comlink chirped, until the boy’s words triggered a cataclysmic line of thought. 

“How do you choose? 

He jerked, fixing a wide-eyed stare to the blissfully oblivious padawan next to him, who didn’t even register Obi-Wan’s reaction until he spoke. 

“What did you say?” he said so lowly that it sounded like a hissed warning. 

Anakin’s face showed his surprise as clearly as his force signature and he turned to look at Obi-Wan, obviously confused as to what could provoke such a visceral reaction. Anakin stared at him for a second, eyes drifting to the side as if he was replaying what he’d asked over in his mind, trying to decipher whatever he said that was wrong. 

“Hum, I was asking how you choose your lightsaber color? You told me a lightsaber was a Jedi’s life, so I thought, it must be an important choice…” he explained slowly, peering up at Obi-Wan carefully. “I realized I didn’t know how to choose,” he finished with a shrug. 

If the ceiling had suddenly fallen on Obi-Wan’s head, he wouldn’t have been feeling any more banged up. He barely managed to regain a semblance of calm and slam up his shields, lest Anakin ended up on the wrong end of his conflicted emotions but the damage was already done and even if Anakin couldn’t sense him in the Force, he’d definitely noticed the change and he now looked as if Obi-Wan was a frightened animal ready to lash out.

His comlink chirped again, bringing his padawan’s attention to his wrist. “You’re being paged,” Anakin said unhelpfully, as if Obi-Wan hadn’t noticed. 

He couldn’t respond anything though, his thoughts tumultuously clashing and clogging his throat. 

How to choose? 

He swallowed. “I need to go,” he managed to grit out at last, eliciting a careful look from the boy. “I’ll see you later Anakin, alright?”

Again, Anakin’s eyes drifted to the side in a gesture Obi-Wan now recognized as a show of insecurity and nodded a little unsurely. Maybe at another time, Obi-Wan might have been able to soothe his worries, but his head was too far away at the moment, and he mutely got to his feet. 

He managed to recall squeezing Anakin’s shoulder in comfort as he went, and it was all he could do to try and focus on not bumping against the wall of the narrow passage leading out of the room to go back to the dormitories to fetch Satine.

How to choose indeed? 

Obi-Wan didn’t have any doubt on what he would have chosen three years ago. He loved Qui-Gon like a father; he’d been the closest parental figure Obi-Wan had ever had, and had taught him nearly everything he knew. 

But loving Satine had felt like breathing for the first time, and never had Obi-Wan ever felt so completely himself with anyone. Away from the Code for which he had an unbounded respect but regardless always felt restricting, stifling. 

Obi-Wan had always felt like he fell short; that he would never succeed in attainting the level of moral righteousness and self-discipline to embody the ideal Jedi, one who should embody the code. 

It was supposed to be their guiding principles and Obi-Wan only remembered too well the times at which he had troubles following it as a teenager– too emotional, too angry, too desperate – which had almost led him to have the dream of becoming a Jedi ripped away from him. So he followed the rules, and short of being the perfect Jedi, strived to be the best version of himself as he could be, guarding the despairing knowledge it might never be good enough close to his heart and away from prying eyes. 

With Satine, there had been no pretense, no masks, no code. Never had Obi-Wan felt so free, and yet so trapped at the same time by what kept him from fully leaping.  
Ultimately, he hadn’t stayed because she hadn’t asked. _I loved you too, you know_. Her words of earlier only made that pill harder to swallow.

Yet now she was here, with _his_ son. She still wasn’t asking. 

But what if she did? 

Obi-Wan thought back on Anakin’s face when telling him about his week, childish excitement and oblivious innocence, staring up at him like he held all the answers and all the solutions even though Obi-Wan felt constantly like falling down an endless dark pit with no escape.

What would he choose now? 

The mere thought closed his throat. 

Anakin, the little boy uprooted from his home planet and his mother to be taken to the other side of the galaxy and undergo a rigorous training that the majority of temple-raised younglings couldn’t complete; the little boy who’d opened up to him like a sunflower at dawn as soon as Obi-Wan had pushed his distrust away and had taken to be the anchor for Obi-Wan’s tumultuous thoughts after Qui-Gon’s passing; the little boy with more emotional intelligence than all the Jedi Obi-Wan had ever known and yet struggled so much with his own and tried his best to make Obi-wan proud. 

The little boy Obi-Wan could easily love as a little brother, and who had been entrusted in Obi-Wan’s inexperienced hands to train and raise. 

Or the one woman he had ever truly loved and his son. The woman who’d shown him a glimpse of a life outside the order, a life that wasn’t nearly as scary as he’d thought as a thirteen years old, fearful of his dream being snatched away. The woman who’d allowed him to be himself, who’d listened to him, who’d comforted him and who’d made him both maddeningly frustrated and deliriously happy. The one he could have given up everything for. 

And his son… The son he didn’t know he had, and the one he might lose before getting to know. The little boy he’d taken in his arms like it’d done it all his life and who’d snuggled against his chest, even as unconscious as the gesture had been. The little boy he and Satine had made.

He took in a sharp breath. 

Who would he chose? 

o.0.o

Satine had been sitting on the edge of the bed for a while when Obi-Wan came back to get her. After his departure, her ears had been ringing, their words on a loop in her mind and dragging her to the depths of her shame and guilt against which she could do nothing but grit her teeth and bear it. 

She had paced the length of the room, which was small enough to make her feel like a caged Zalorian rock-lion, as she tried to calm herself down and take a step back vis-à-vis their situation. 

It had been entirely pointless. 

She was far too worried for Korkie, far too somber over the hurt she had instigated. She couldn’t start thinking about what to do – not until she had news about Obi-Wan’s test results. She closed her eyes tightly, praying to whoever would hear that they were a match. She felt tears press against her eyelids again, but she held them in. 

Eventually, she’d sat on the bed and hadn’t moved, her hands pressed palm to palm between her knees as she stared into nothingness. She wished she could have rested a little, but she had been under no illusion that she would actually manage it. Not until she had news… And even then.

Satine let out a breath, eyes turning skywards. When would this nightmare end? She could feel exhaustion pulling at her, but she was still far too buzzed with nervous adrenaline over the wait of the results. As if the circumstances of her arrival to Coruscant hadn’t been taxing enough, the _discussion_ with Obi-Wan had left her in somewhat of a resigned daze, and all she could think about were his accusations – sharp and precise – as they repeated in a loop with each beats of her heart.

When he knocked at the door, she startled but was on her feet before she could even process the surprised interruption out of her personal mind hell. 

“Bant paged,” he announced without preamble after she’d nearly unhinged the door open. She noticed he could barely meet her eyes. She didn’t blame him and instead she got a move on, trying her best to ignore how her heart felt like trying to escape out of her chest. 

The walk back to the Halls of healing was agonizing, the both of them walled in their silence and incapable of reaching out. 

It wasn’t Healer Bant who greeted them when they arrived, and Satine didn’t know whether that was a good or bad thing. Probably neither; it was ludicrous to correlate that to the result of the test but Satine was feeling like she was stepping on hot coal, her entire body buzzing in response to a threat she couldn’t yet see and she needed to think fast to have a counterattack. 

The small med droid led them to a shoebox of a room which was furnished solely with a small desk and chairs where Healer Bant was waiting for them. She was bent over a flimsiplast folder, taking notes here and there, but she looked up with a smile when they both sat. 

It felt entirely surreal to Satine. Her and Obi-Wan sitting in front a doctor regarding _their_ son… 

It made her chest both warm and her stomach cold. How many times had she dreamt of such a scenario, or variations of it, in the last two years, and even more so in the past six months? How many times had she woken up from dreams that left her cold and alone and desperate to fall back asleep to resume a dream that never failed to make her feel like her reality was a failure. No matter how much she loved Korkie, no matter how happy her son made her, she’d always felt like she was missing something, never to say – even in the privacy of her own mind – what that something was, even though she damn well knew what. 

The irony of her dream scenario happening in their current circumstances didn’t escape her, and it left an ashy taste in her mouth. 

“So?” she spoke first, her hands fisted in the fabric of her dress. She felt Obi-Wan throwing her a glance she couldn’t interpret but she couldn’t focus on it, instead fixing Healer Bant with a pleading gaze. 

When she smiled warmly Satine felt the buried embers of hope flare back to life, but it was nothing compared to what her next words elicited. 

“You’re a match Obi-Wan,” she announced, her gaze shifting between them and Satine could have fainted in relief. 

She felt her entire frame sag, like a puppet whose strings had been cut off, feeling her heart so light it might as well have fled her chest. 

“Oh thank the gods,” she breathed out, tears rolling off her cheeks again unbidden. 

“If you consent to donate–”

“Of course I do,” Obi-Wan cut her off, his tone suggesting Healer Bant was completely psychotic to even suggest otherwise. To her credit, she didn’t take any offense in it at all, instead giving a mildly exasperated look, dotted with fondness to Obi-Wan who visibly shrunk in on himself at the rudeness of his reply. 

Satine couldn’t have cared less how rude he was. He could have recited all the curse words available in Basic that she probably wouldn’t even have noticed. 

Deep down, rationally, she knew they weren’t out of the woods yet. Far from it. But for the first time in six months they had a viable solution – something that could do more than gain a few days, a few weeks, a few months, to the life of her two-year-old son. 

“It’s just protocol Obi-Wan,” Bant countered easily, in the same soft-spoken tone as before. “I expect you’ll want to get the procedure done sooner rather than later, and I can schedule it for this afternoon if you wish.”

Satine snapped her head up when she realized what exactly the healer was implying. 

“Today?” she croaked out, her eyes stinging under the repeated assault of her tears. She hadn’t cried in six months and it seemed her body was making up for lost time with a revenge. 

Healer Bant nodded, turning her inquisitive gaze to Obi-Wan, Satine imitating her a beat later. Obi-Wan looked vaguely off-balance, blinking as if his vision was blurred. After opening and closing his mouth a few times, he seemed to regain control of his verbal capacities and answered a vaguely strangled “okay.”

Satine wasn’t entirely certain what possessed her, but before the sob had made it out of her mouth, she’d jumped from her chair and onto Obi-Wan’s. He caught her easily despite his obvious shock, and after an awkward beat that she barely noticed, his arms came around her back and he returned her embrace. Her face was pressed in the crook of his neck, and she heard him sigh, pressing her against him further, making her cry even harder. 

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” was all she could manage to say between the hiccups and the hitches of her breathing. She was feeling light-headed, and her body, so light barely a few moments prior in the wake of the announcement, was slowly feeling the weight of gravity again, to the point that Satine wouldn’t have been able to differentiate her limbs from lead had someone asked. 

Her cries abated slowly, but it took some time for her to realize that Obi-Wan was rocking her slightly, one hand in the back of her head. She could have fallen asleep in his arms, a feeling of safety and comfort washing over her slowly, lulling her as surely as his warmth and the reassuring nonsense he spoke softly in her ear. 

For the first time in three years, nothing was missing.

***

As it turned out, she did fall asleep in his arms. And he had to carry her to an unoccupied room in the Healing halls, where she proceeded to sleep for 48 standard hours. 

She would not feel embarrassed, she would not feel embarrassed, she would not… 

But she did. Because apparently, Obi-Wan had the time to arrange for Anakin’s training to be supervised by another master for the following days in case there were complications, undergo the procedure, rest after said procedure, visit her, visit their son and get a head start in reading the literature Healer Bant had given him on bone marrow transplant. 

“Did it hurt?” 

They were sitting in Korkie’s healing room, the toddler in her arms looking far more peaceful than he did when she’d brought him to the temple. There was a healing crystal set right above the crib where he’d been resting, and it had done more for her son in mere hours than all the healers she could find had in six months. She did not blame them, but she didn’t hide her relief either. 

Obi-Wan raised his head from where it’d been resting on his palm, literature on his laps. He looked a little tired, but Satine would be hard-pressed to say whether it was from the procedure or the situation in general. The former surely hadn’t improved anything but it was telling that perhaps it wasn’t the main cause of Obi-Wan’s drawn features and dull look. 

“No, it didn’t,” he sighed, before tilting his head side to side in attempt to stretch his neck. “I was under anesthesia.” 

Satine nodded. She felt the need to say something else, anything. She shouldn’t have been surprised by his readiness to help. And yet, she’d feared the worst, so used to bad news since this whole nightmare had started. She was struggling to voice her gratefulness, fearing she might offend him. 

She must have been far too expressive in her mutism because he interrupted her musings with a question she wasn’t any more apt to answer now that he’d asked than when she’d mused over it in her mind. 

“What is it?” he asked tiredly, but obviously attempting to sound pleasant. She didn’t deserve it, but she would take it anyway. She opened her mouth, before releasing a breath as the words struggled to form. 

Stalling, she looked down at Korkie’s sleeping face, a smile tugging at her lips unconsciously. She brushed his auburn hair away from his forehead and she felt warmed to the core when he leaned into the touch. 

“Thank you,” she said at last regardless, at a lost for what else she could possibly say. There weren’t enough words to convey how grateful she was for what he was doing. Even if she knew it was in his nature to do so, he never had any obligation.

He sighed, his face expressing a deep melancholy that told her that if she hadn’t offended him, she might have hurt him. Again. She swallowed around the lump in her throat at the thought. She was tired of hurting him. 

“Did you think I wouldn’t?” his words only confirmed her fears and she bit her lips, closing her eyes for a moment as she took them in. 

“I didn’t want to assume that, after what I did, you would help so readily.”

He raised an eyebrow at that, his head back in his hand, which was covering half of his mouth. “You seem to make a rather liberal use of ‘assumptions’.” 

She hinged her jaw. She had no right to be upset at his words, not in light of what she’d done. She accepted the accusation quietly, although she found herself unable to conjure a reply for several long moments that seemed to thicken the silence the longer they lasted. 

“Nothing I can say will ever change what I did,” she started carefully. “I can’t hope that you’ll understand and the only defense I have is that I did what I could with what I had. I wanted you to have the future you had dreamt of your entire life.”

“I do understand,” Obi-Wan replied earnestly, some of the earlier apathy melting away as he fixed her with a meaningful look before shaking his head minutely. “But it doesn’t mean I accept it.”

She swallowed, averting her eyes until he spoke again.

“It wasn’t your decision to make, Satine.” 

It was spoken in such a soft voice, how could it be so cutting? Satine’s face scrunched up in a pained grimace, feeling as if his words had the same weight as the entire galaxy which now seemed to be squashing her down. 

“I was afraid,” she admitted in a quiet voice, shame burning her throat. 

Obi-Wan frowned, lowering his hand. When the quiet inquisition on his face didn’t abate, she forced herself to elaborate. 

“I was afraid of so many things. Earlier, when I said I knew you’d stay if I asked... I didn’t. I thought you might, and that was enough to be unwilling to risk it; but there was always so many doubts nagging me. I was afraid that you would say no if I asked you to stay, that you might hate me for asking you to choose, that you would come to resent us, to resent me, if you’d said yes. And when I learnt I was pregnant, I was afraid that you would feel duty bound to stay even if it wasn’t what you wished. I didn’t want to burden you with that choice,” she forced out, knowing that it would spark another argument. But she wanted to be honest after all this deception. She was tired. 

As predicated, Obi-Wan let out a sharp sigh, his eyes closing in thinly veiled exasperation and grief. “Satine…”

“I know, I’m sorry,” she rushed out, nearly pleading. “I know it sounds bad, Obi-Wan… But I never meant to hurt you, and I know that I did and I’m sorry.”  
He stared at her, expression pained. 

“It wouldn’t have been a burden for me,” he said at last and she felt a spike of frustration flash through her. 

“And how was I to know that?” she retorted sharply. “Obi-Wan you never _said_ anything either! How was I supposed to know you wanted to stay, that I wouldn’t expose myself to humiliation and rejection if I took the first step?”

He looked stunned for a moment, obviously not having expected such a surge of energy after the near-lethargy they’d both been trapped in since she woke up.  
“Maybe I should have just _assumed_ then too? And besides I _did_ take the first step!”

“You asked for _a night_ Satine!” he burst out after he recovered from his initial shock, before wincing and shooting a glance down at Korkie in her arms, subsequently lowering his voice. “A night, singular. I couldn’t have guessed you wanted more either!”

“Exactly, then how can you blame me for letting you go when you did the exact same thing, leaving without saying anything?” she whisper-yelled. 

“I am not blaming you for letting me go the first time, I am blaming you for not telling me about Korkie!” 

“How could have I known that you wouldn’t come back and leave everything behind just because you felt guilty, huh?” she snapped. “I didn’t want you to be selfless Obi-Wan, I wanted you to think of yourself first for once, and I feared that you wouldn’t if you felt compelled to leave the order just because you felt it was your duty.”  
She paused, attempting to calm her breathing. 

“I _hoped_ ,” she eventually continued, eyes blown with all the emotions she felt coursing through her. “I hoped you wanted to stay anyway, I hoped you would come back because you wanted to. I dreamt of you being there so many times, it felt like I was living a double life. I know that taking away your choice was despicable and I suppose, selfish, and I know I would have been out of my mind in anger had our roles been reversed. But I did what I could with what I had,” she repeated, feeling all the pent-up loneliness, hardships and struggles of the last three years catch up to her. “I made the wrong decision, well I’m sorry. Because I lived with the consequences of that wrong decision for three years too; the Duchess of Mandalore, unmarried and pregnant, would you look at that! _I_ had to deal with the gossips, with the shaming stares, with the attempts at ridicule, with the reprimands and the advice of well-wishing advisors telling me I should abort. _I_ had to deal with a difficult pregnancy and a difficult delivery. _I_ had to deal with the pain and the soreness and such a long recovery I thought I would never walk from it. _I_ had to deal with the sleepless nights and crying fits that would last hours on end. _I_ had to deal with learning my son, at two years old, might not live long enough to see his third birthday. _I_ had to deal with the coughing fits, the cries, the fever, the vomiting. _I_ had to deal with healers of gods know how many planets telling me time and time again that there was nothing they could do. _I_ had to deal with the knowledge that I had deliberately kept him from you to enable you to live your dream; that my decision made you miss out on his first smile, his first words, his first steps; on getting to know him, with his quirky and bubbly personality, with the shame and guilt it brought me, only to have to ask you for help because you might be his last chance.”

She was breathless, and apparently crying again while Obi-Wan stared at her with horrified eyes and pain etched on his face. 

“I know I may have made a fodder decision and I’m _sorry_. But don’t you dare think it was a walk in the park for me either. I’m sorry, Obi-Wan, you’ll never know how much,” she gasped out. “But it is what it is, and nothing I say will ever change anything.”

The silence that met her words rung in the space between them as they stared at each other, both filled to the brim with conflicting emotions.

o.0.o

Obi-Wan had no idea what to say. Tears still rolled down Satine’s cheeks, but her eyes were hard, filled with steely determination and quiet resigned acceptance. He could see it reflected there. The last three years. Everything she’d just confessed. He could see it playing again in front of her, and in the unyielding gleam burning in her glacial eyes. 

Hearing about all the things she had to go through _alone_ because she had thought it best to _spare_ him this experience only made him nauseous. He knew that logically, the fact that he hadn’t been there with her, he couldn’t have helped – not insofar as she hadn’t told him she was pregnant. He couldn’t have known. 

But it didn’t stop part of him from riling up against that deflection, as if guilt had to be assigned to someone for all the things she’d endured, and that the sole culprit was him. And yet, it didn’t seem fair either. He would have _wanted_ to be there and help her through it all. But because she had decided to keep it all to herself, he hadn’t been able to be there. 

This was something that could never be taken back. 

“I meant it you know,” she broke off his introspection, and he shifted his eyes to her face inquisitively. “I loved you too.”

He couldn’t help the small hitch in his breath or the way his heart pounded like an adolescent. And yet all he could hear, was that she still wasn’t asking him to stay.  
The fact that he wasn’t sure whether he wanted her to, was irrelevant. It still stupidly hurt that she wasn’t asking, despite – and perhaps because of – everything that had transpired. 

That alone told Obi-Wan he might have still walked away from the order if… if not for Anakin. The mere thought of leaving the boy behind threatened to send Obi-Wan into a frenzy. 

He’d promised Qui-Gon he would train him and despite his initial reluctance, his initial doubts both in Anakin and himself, he found that he enjoyed training him. Anakin might have been the biggest drama queen of the entire temple, but he had a heart of gold and such an endearingly bright personality that it was nearly impossible to resist him. There was still a resistance bastion headed by Master Windu when it came down to approve of Anakin being trained, but Obi-Wan knew for a fact it was dwindling rather fast. 

Obi-Wan couldn’t fathom doing this to Anakin after everything. He couldn’t imagine leaving him at the temple to be trained by someone else. 

And that left him in quite a conundrum, didn’t it? 

He sighed, trying to dispel the emotions her words had elicited. _Focus on the present_ , he mentally admonished, repeating Qui-Gon’s words. 

“Have you signed the consent forms?” he asked, trying to ignore the pang in his chest at the flash of disappointment in her eyes. 

She recovered remarkably well, all things considered. He wasn’t even surprised. 

“Yes. They’re starting the first session tonight.”

Obi-Wan nodded, eyes falling back onto the literature that he’d read to the point of memorizing. He never thought he’d ended up with such well-rounded knowledge of bone marrow transplant, and yet here he was. 

They would install a central venous catheter on Korkie’s chest, so that the stem cells they’d harvested from Obi-Wan could flow straight to his heart, from where they would disperse in his body, through his blood system and to this bone marrow where they would establish themselves and begin to grow. To ensure that the cells would integrate themselves as well as possible in his body, they needed to leave the catheter in place and repeat the operation over several days, all the while receiving medication to fight off infections and help the new marrow grow. 

They could have been transferred to Coruscant’s Med Center if they’d wanted to, but Obi-Wan felt safer in the Temple where the Force offered a soothing presence and the healers here were well versed in ensuring faster recoveries and more comfortable procedures through Force manipulation. Considering on top of that, that Korkie was Force sensitive, it seemed like the only logical choice. Satine hadn’t disagreed. As long as he was well taken care of, she didn’t really care where it was.  
Her whole attention was back to the sleeping little boy in her arms, her expression equal parts loving and terrified, both warring for precedence and Obi-Wan couldn’t help the tight feeling in his chest at the sight. 

Again he was hit by how raw the last three years had been for her. The mental torture and psychological meanders that led a person to question everything, the cruel “what ifs”… 

His own torment was akin to a sudden shot, pain radiating violently and viciously, pulsing through the rest of the body until it assaulted everything; while hers was slow and pervasive, never ending and spoiling even the most joyful moments, like a poison rotting the veins and burning the insides. 

Obi-Wan wasn’t arrogant enough to downplay her own suffering, even if his own seemed so great. He wasn’t sure which torture he would have picked had he been in a position to do so, but she had at least had that option, when it had been denied to him – she’d chosen her poison, he hadn’t. He supposed in a way, she’d been all but forced to choose, it wasn’t like he had been the one bearing the consequences of that night.

He let out a small sigh, head falling back against the head rest of the seat he’d been stuck in for the last few hours. He still felt twinges in his lower back if he moved too suddenly, around his pelvic bone where they had withdrawn liquid marrow, but the physical pain was grounding in the way his mental peregrinations were not; it was a reminder that he was doing something now at least – that he was choosing something now. 

He let out a sigh. This was such a mess. 

The fact that they had a plan to save Korkie – one that should work – went a long way in assuaging both their anxiety, but it wouldn’t last, Obi-Wan knew. It was maddeningly frustrating, the fact that he desperately wanted for Korkie to finally be out of danger, to be safe and back to the little boy Satine had described, while knowing that it will irrevocably bring an end to…whatever this was; that it would lead Obi-Wan to a crossroad where he would have to make a decision he didn’t think he was ready to make.

He realized the irony of that thought, considering he’d been so adamant with Satine that he would have wanted to choose. But perhaps there was never such a thing as being ready to make a decision – Obi-Wan didn’t know how he could ever be ready to choose between Anakin and Korkie. Had it been Satine and the order, Obi-Wan knew it wouldn’t have taken more than a second to make up his mind; he couldn’t help the twinge of shame at the rapidity of his rejection of the order, but he was nothing if not honest. 

But when it was Anakin and Korkie in the balance… Obi-Wan didn’t know.

Worse, it left him with difficulty to breathe and his heart in his throat whenever he tried to imagine his future without the warm and bright presence of the former, or knowing of his son and yet for him to forever remain a stranger. He was starting to grasp acutely well why the order warned against attachments in relation to one’s duty and the ability to remain clear-headed. If Obi-Wan was absolutely honest with himself, had the choice been forced upon him in a mission, where he had to gamble the life of one of these two boys against his duty, or even, Force forbid, the life of other sentient, he did not know he could remain stoic and professional.  
He jerked when she spoke next. 

“Would you have stayed? Had I asked, would you have stayed?” 

It felt like lancing a boil, how her words fell right in his musings. She wasn’t talking about the here and now, but it still felt like rubbing salt on an open wound. His eyes fluttered close for a second, knowing they were delving back into the thick of it. He was tired, but something had to give. He took a steeling breath and forced himself to look at her. 

“Yes,” he said in a near-whisper. Satine’s expression brightened for a blessed fraction of a second, before it wilted in such profound regret, so perfectly mirroring Obi-Wan’s own, that it felt like a punch to the guts. “Had you said the word, I would have left the Jedi Order,” he added, the words piercing them both, but needing to be said aloud. 

She tried to smile, a broken and sad thing that did nothing to relieve them of the weight of regret. 

“I suppose I should have asked then,” she managed to breathe out in a strained voice and Obi-Wan could only let out a humorless chuckle. 

“I suppose I should have said something.” It felt equally cathartic and like he was torturing himself willfully to admit it out loud.

The ‘would have’ and ‘should have’ seemed to be taunting them, dangling a lost past in front of them, a future that could have been and which seemed jarring compared to the bleakness of the situation they found themselves in. 

“We both assumed too much,” she countered calmly, but with steel in her voice, the one he remembered from three years ago and it nearly brought a smile to his face.  
The topic of the argument might have been different, but it was reminiscent to so many of their discussions of the past that it threatened to give him whiplash. “We both should have said something instead.”

For the first time since they were reacquainted, it felt like they were on equal footing instead of precariously trying to stay upright and in balance. It was the acknowledgement that they both shared some of the blame for what had happened, that they made erroneous assumptions that had led to which detrimental decisions being made. 

It was relieving in a way, like a scar, reminder of past hurt as much as how they’d overcome it. Obi-Wan wasn’t entirely sure where that left them now though. Before he could dwell on it, the door hissed open suddenly, making them both snap their head towards the newcomer, and Obi-Wan felt his eyes widen in shock.

“Anakin!”

The boy was, panting and flushed-face, one arm on each side of the door jamb. His face brightened when he spotted Obi-Wan but before he could say anything, footsteps could be heard running towards them. 

“Padawan Skywalker!” came a sharp calling and Anakin winced, releasing his hold and turned about, now retreating inside the room and towards where Obi-Wan was sitting. 

Chief Healer Vokara Che was now standing at the door, fixing Anakin with such a withering glare that it made the boy wilt. 

“I specifically told you _not_ to bother your master. Care to tell me how barging in the room adheres to my very clear and pointed instruction?” 

Obi-Wan would have been impressed with the scolding if he hadn’t been painfully familiar with it, having been on the receiving end of it more times than he cared to remember as a padawan. 

“I haven’t seen him in two days!” Anakin protested, tone whining and Obi-Wan quirked an amused eyebrow. 

“It has hardly been more than a day and a half and you’ve survived longer without him,” Master Che retorted without missing a beat, her arms akimbo. “I would know since you always seem to find yourself in these halls with one injury or another whenever Obi-Wan is not on planet.” 

That raised an eyebrow in a different kind of emotional expression and Obi-Wan distinctly saw Anakin’s face hesitating between blushing and blanching. Well. That was a prompt for one of their _talks_ later, and if Anakin’s Force signature was anything to go by, his padawan knew it. 

Before it escalated to the next level in Anakin’s melodrama handbook, Obi-Wan decided to intervene. 

“It’s alright Master Che. He can stay for a little while, and I’ll make sure he’s back to his studies afterwards.”

She turned a deadpanning look at him, _daring_ him to follow through with that. 

“You will do no such thing, you’re staying put and rest. Padawan Skywalker on the other hand, will be sure to go back to his studies promptly after the visit, am I making myself clear?”

Both master and padawan nodded in unison and Obi-Wan had to resist the urge to blush at the admonishment. He was twenty-five, not ten. 

A glance back to Satine revealed she was deeply amused by the display, her eyes crinkled with mirth and a raised eyebrow that made him pout his lips and roll his eyes. 

She chuckled softly, shaking her head and he found himself smiling at her before Anakin got his attention. 

“Why do you need to rest?” he asked alarmingly. “You said you only had to go through a minor procedure and that it would be over before I knew it!”

Obi-Wan sighed, observing Anakin’s accusing face and could easily detect the worry behind it. It warmed him more than it should. 

“It was a minor procedure,” he asserted. No need to specify that the benchmark Obi-Wan used to evaluate the danger of bone marrow extraction was open heart surgery. Besides, he was already feeling nearly as good as new, stinging in his lower back excluded. “I just need to rest to make sure it doesn’t sidetrack recovery.”

Anakin looked doubtful, boring his eyes in Obi-Wan’s head like it would tell him whether he was being lied to or not. 

“Why did you need it?” he asked, seemingly changing tactics. 

Obi-Wan’s chest constricted a little, and he saw Satine hold Korkie a bit closer to her chest in the corner of his eyes. 

“To help someone,” he said airily. 

“Who?” Anakin shot back. 

Obi-Wan’s eyes travelled to Satine slowly, telling Anakin to look behind him. He looked entirely puzzled for a moment and Obi-Wan suspected he hadn’t even realized they weren’t alone in the room. 

“Oh hello!”

Satine pushed a polite mask on her face, still uncertain about what to think of Anakin, no doubt. “Hello,” she replied in a measured tone. 

Anakin’s eyes swung lower and spotted the little boy, asleep in her arms, his Force signature immediately spiking and his face beaming. 

“Oh, is that your baby?” he asked Satine excitedly, already moving away from Obi-Wan and approaching the two. Surprising Obi-Wan, he stopped a few steps away, clasping both his hands behind his back as he asked: “Can I come closer?”

Satine couldn’t hide her surprise at the question, and if Obi-Wan was being honest, he definitely wouldn’t have expected such deference either, but perhaps he should have. 

He’d seen Anakin in the crèche, helping with the little ones, and he was like a fish in the water, able to calm any crying babe far more easily than Obi-Wan had ever managed. He had to wonder if Anakin had interacted with many babies back on Tatooine. 

“Sure,” Satine replied a little off-balance. It didn’t seem to bother Anakin and he smiled widely, slowly closing the distance before observing Korkie. 

“He’s really cute,” he said like he was a connoisseur appreciating fine wine. It surprised a laugh at of Obi-Wan and an amused look from Satine. “How old is he?”  
“Two years old,” Satine told him with a soft look down at Korkie that made Obi-Wan wistful. 

Anakin hummed. He approached a careful hand, brushing his fingers on Korkie’s pale one, jolting minutely as he did so, before shock flashed through his face as he looked up to Satine. It was gone so fast Obi-Wan thought he imagined it. What he didn’t imagine, was the undecipherable, yet meaningful look he gave Obi-Wan, feeling him with unease as he wondered whether Anakin had somehow gathered Obi-Wan was the father. 

Anakin’s unblinking stare broke when he turned back to Satine and he seemed to be back to his usual self.

“You are not a Jedi, are you?” he asked as politely as he could muster. 

She smiled at him, shaking her head. “No, I am not. But Korkie here, needed the help of one,” she added with a look at Obi-Wan. Anakin hummed again in acknowledgement. 

“Are you friends with Obi-Wan then?” he wondered with such innocence that it killed in the bud the nervous laugh that threatened to pass Obi-Wan’s lips. 

He wasn’t the only one deeply uncomfortable with yet another loaded question from the young padawan – Anakin really seemed to grow into an expert at digging the most painfully difficult ones to answer – if Satine’s thinly concealed grimace was anything to go by. 

To her credit, she didn’t look at him for help, and managed to gather her wits in a flash. “Yes, we are.”

Being friends wasn’t mutually exclusive with all of the other complicated strings binding them together he supposed, so the answer was accurate. 

After a silence that turned out not to be uncomfortable, Anakin proved himself yet again in Obi-Wan’s eyes when he announced he should probably go back to his studies. Obi-Wan smiled at the thought that he must have been dying to know how he was, and now that he was reassured, he knew better than to linger. Satine wished him luck and after exchanging the customary Jedi parting, Anakin closed the door behind him. 

“He’s a sweet boy,” Satine told him after Anakin had left. 

Obi-Wan took in a deep breath as he nodded, fully agreeing. He could be a right pain when he wanted, but ultimately, he had wormed himself in Obi-Wan’s heart faster than he would have expected back when Master Yoda had agreed to allow him to train the boy.

“A tad melodramatic,” he said drily instead, but he knew a fond look was etched on his face, for Satine smiled softly. 

“He’s still young,” she defended and Obi-Wan’s eyebrow shot up and down in a wry concession. 

“I suppose that must be it then.”

“Have you been training him long?” she asked benignly, and Obi-Wan realized that she didn’t know the circumstances of their bond.

“No, five months.” She seemed shocked, and Obi-Wan wasn’t entirely sure what exactly elicited it. “Qui-Gon and I met him during our last mission together.” 

It was still hard to talk about it without feeling a lump in his throat, but he was getting better at it. It was the only thing that mattered, he guessed. 

“He’s from Tatooine, and much older than we usually like to start training younglings, but…it was Qui-Gon’s dying wish,” he finished, shrugging a little. 

Her expression had turned more solemn as she realized just what shadows still overhung Anakin’s apprenticeship. 

“You seem to have a good relationship despite knowing each other for so little time,” she observed in a tone that told Obi-Wan it was exactly that which had shocked her earlier. 

He could concede that easily. “Yes, he’s very endearing, and despite the whining, he makes a lot of effort.” 

She smiled at that, nodding in understanding. He frowned, foreboding tensing his spine when he saw wistful sadness appeared on her face. 

“What is it?”

Her eyes snapped to meet his like he’d caught her red-handed in the cookie jar. She forced a smile, which wasn’t reaching her eyes and shook her head as if it didn’t matter. Which was exactly what told Obi-Wan that it did, in fact, matter. 

“Satine,” he only prompted, hoping she would hear his plea.

She deflated, letting out a bone-deep sigh that only intensified Obi-Wan’s apprehension. 

“It isn’t solely the order anymore,” she eventually said in a deeply resigned tone and Obi-Wan’s blood ran cold, his breath hitching. 

She gave him another sad smile at his reaction, eyes dropping back to Korkie who was still slumbering peacefully thanks to the soothing effect of the crystal. 

Did she– had she meant to–…? 

Obi-Wan could only conjure one explanation as to why she would say this in the way she had, and it only made him feel like a rancor was tearing his insides with its claws. He blinked, swallowing the thought. To not get ahead of himself. 

“What to do you mean?”

She sent him a half-hearted glare, easily showing him she wasn’t fooled in the least by his attempt at fishing for information. He kept an innocent expression that didn’t convince her any more than his question had, but she relented, huffing in that aristocratic way she had when she aimed to tell her interlocutor just what she thought of the conversation. 

“Faking innocence is unbecoming, Obi-Wan,” she said haughtily, and he could have smiled at the petulance if he hadn’t been so nervous about hearing what she would say. They both knew she was stalling just as much as he’d been playing dumb. Neither said anything about it. 

She opened and closed her mouth a few times, before letting out a breath and giving him a look. “You know what I meant.”

Oh no she didn’t…

“I want to hear you say it,” he shot back immediately, only realizing now that he was inching forward in his chair when pain shot in his lower back. 

They stared at each other for a full minute that tasted like forever, the air suddenly thick, until Korkie let out a small cough, his little face scrunching up once more. She beat Obi-Wan to the punch, already on her feet and replacing Korkie in the cot where the crystal was still having the most effect. She smoothed back his hair reverently, murmuring incoherent reassurances until the little boy seemed to settle again. 

Obi-Wan stared down at him, thinking that never hearing about this dreadful disease after this was all over would be too soon. 

Satine straightened back up, her hand settling on her hips as she looked skywards and Obi-Wan was brought immediately back to their earlier line of questioning. 

“Satine–“

“Please just–,” she interrupted, raising a head in front of herself in a halting gesture. He dutifully closed his mouth, letting her work through her words.

“I– after Korkie received the treatment, I–…” she stuttered, breathing shallow like she was still mired in the fear she’d spoken of. She closed her eyes, brows drawn together as she let out a frustrated huff. 

He got to his feet, ignoring the tinge of pain, and circled around the cot. She shot him a look as she heard him approach. 

“After the treatment and he is _fine_ ,” he said in as a confident tone as he could, willing her to cling to that before he added ever so softly, “Then, what?”

She stared at him for a little while longer, before averting her eyes. She hinged her jaw in resolve and drew her attention back to him. 

“After he receives the treatment and is fine,” she parroted his words with the faint hint of teasing, “I think… I mean I wanted to ask if, perhaps you would–”

Obi-Wan’s heart was hammering in his chest as he hung off her words. He couldn’t doubt what she meant to ask, but still, the uncertainty remained. 

She grimaced, as if in pain, her eyes pleading. “Obi-Wan…”

“Please say it,” he pushed, whispering. 

“I wanted to ask you to come back with me.”

The words were a balm to the reopened wound of three years ago, and Obi-Wan let out a breath, feeling as if he was suddenly floating. 

Before he could think of forming any coherent thought, his hands reached forward and cupped her face infinitely softly, surging down to claim her lips the same way he had that night, drinking the surprised gasp from her lips. 

After a beat, she kissed back, one arm draping around his shoulders while her other hand lost itself in his hair, and she pressed herself against him. 

All the pent-up emotions seemed to evaporate in that kiss – the bitterness, the loss, the loneliness, the regrets, the anger, the grief, it all melted in its wake, until all that was left was that unexplainable, irrepressible love pulsing between the two of them, making Obi-Wan’s head swim and his heart pound. 

He deepened the kiss and she opened her mouth, meeting him halfway and allowing all the things left unsaid being poured into this one kiss. It felt like coming home after losing his way, finally breathing after being under water too long. 

They gasped apart, but stayed close, their foreheads touching as they both panted, their breaths mingling. When he opened his eyes she was opening hers and Obi-Wan felt like crying. 

“I love you,” she breathed, the words ghosting his lips like a caress and it nearly undid him. She moved forward again, kissing him just as a tear rolled down his cheek, and he could feel her confession as starkly as if she’d shouted it. 

How long had he wanted to hear that? How long had he needed to hear that? 

He followed her, falling again as he kissed back tenderly and gently, all the while feeling the never dying ember of a lost love flaring back and roaring in his veins.  
It was as all-consuming as it was delicate, and Obi-Wan was lost. He had to break the kiss as a sob broke through him and he clenched his eyes, trying to quench the tears from falling too fast. He felt her hand slide away from the back of his head and to his cheek, brushing reverently the droplets rolling down. 

When he glanced up again, the look she bestowed upon him was one he’d only seen once, and pertained to one of his most cherished memories. As of yet, it was marred by an incredible sadness that Obi-Wan instinctively understood, his heart squeezing. 

“We made a right mess of things, didn’t we?” he breathed out, his voice strangled and she caressed his cheek with her thumb, thinning her lips in quiet acknowledgement. 

“I can’t leave him behind.” 

It was tearing him apart to admit it. But Obi-Wan couldn’t bring himself to abandon Anakin behind. He remembered acutely how Qui-Gon’s callous dismissal of the council protests to his taking another padawan had felt like a slap across the face. Obi-Wan knew how Qui-Gon’s preoccupation with the present led him to grave oversight of consequences, and despite knowing his master had deeply cared about him, Obi-Wan didn’t think he could ever brush aside the hurt it had inspired. He could never do anything of the sort to Anakin. 

She shook her head, attempting to smile but her face was marred by sadness. “You don’t have to.”

He knew why she was saying it, but it didn’t make the sob that tore through him any less painful. 

“But– ”

“I know, I know,” she cut him off, her voice thick with tears, as she pulled him down to embrace him and guiding his head in the crook of her neck. “Gods, Obi-Wan I know.”

For the first time in what felt an eternity, Obi-Wan let go, allowing his tumultuous emotions free expression as he sobbed. For the first time in what felt an eternity, he wasn’t alone dealing with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still so much angst...But at least now they have a plan for Korkie!  
> Again, taken a lot of liberties with his disease - but the description of the bone marrow transplant should be accurate. I spammed my search history with research on bone marrow in the process so... 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed! Don't hesitate to let me know what you think!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all again for the kudos and the comments!! <3 
> 
> I hope you continue to enjoy the story!

Satine held him against her as he poured his heart out through every hitch of breaths, every tear, every sob until he cried himself out, much the same way he had held _her_ that first day when she had cracked under the pressure. 

Finally, when it abated and she felt him slowly sink further against her, she guided him to the room next door where he’d been instructed to stay overnight after the surgery. She didn’t want him to fall asleep in the armchair, only to wake up with a stiff neck and cramps all over the place. He needed rest, and she didn’t mean only physically. 

As soon as she’d steered him to the bed and assisted him in removing his shoes, he crashed like a dead weight, his head hitting the pillow with the same grace of a boulder hurtling down a steep slope. After mount efforts she effectively managed to pull the bed sheet from underneath him and settle it over his frame, unable to resist tucking him in. 

She stood there, unmoving next to the bed where Obi-Wan looked far younger than his years. He seemed vulnerable then, but even in sleep, the deeply seated worry didn’t leave his face, pinching his brows and curling his lips down.

It made her heart ache. How could such a thing as youthful shyness, fear of rejection and unwillingness to unveil their heart to each other so long ago, lead to such unforgiving events? 

She knew logically, that it was not as simple as that, but the thought made her pause regardless, and indulge into the ‘what ifs’ again. Not so much as a brooding, lamenting and self-deprecation endeavor, but rather as an exercise of humility. Perhaps they could learn from their past mistakes and choose to do better. Hindsight always had a head start that shed such poor light on past decisions that it was never a good thing to dwell on it too much, less it fed a vicious cycle of regret. To put it in service of doing better though… 

The decision she had taken then, was faulty, built on shaky grounds, and catastrophic in consequence. She knew that now, and she could vow to herself as much as she wanted to never commit such an oversight again in the future, it wouldn’t change the reality of things.

Back then, knowing what she had, feeling the way she had, she could not have made a different decision. Satine had lived enough now to realize that the repercussions of any choice could only be imagined in part, but there was never any way to fully be aware of the outcomes. One could only do so much, with the cards they’d been dealt. Telling herself that didn’t lessen the regrets, the hurt, the guilt or the shame, not by a long shot, but it could perhaps help her, _them_ , in moving past it in time. 

What else was there to do in any case? 

She brushed Obi-Wan’s still short hair, barely growing out of his padawan cut, much the same as she had done with Korkie, their resemblance in sleep making her smile. If she had had any doubts before, which she hadn’t – how could she, Obi-Wan was the only one she’d ever been with–, they would have been annihilated by that simple tableau. 

Her hand lingered on his cheek, pausing on the tear tracks, and she sighed when he leaned into it unconsciously. 

He couldn’t leave anymore, even if he seemed to want to. 

The boy, Anakin, he had been an abstract entity before today, one she’d heard Obi-Wan mention but once. He was a whirlwind, mischief shining in his blue eyes, yet tamed with the warmth of a golden heart that made her easily trust him. She could easily see in him, the boy Obi-Wan had described, and understand the fondness she’d seen alight in his eyes as he did so. The way he’d asked permission to approach and how he’d observed and gently touched Korkie was telling enough. 

She wasn’t sure what had brought the sudden jerking movement away from her son, but considering what she knew of Jedi from Obi-Wan, it could be any number of things. She decided she didn’t have the energy to dwell on it, and let it go. 

She bent down to press her lips against Obi-Wan’s forehead, lingering there for a second and relishing in the feel of his skin. Satine had known that part of her was hollow since he’d left, but never had she imagined just how much. 

When he’d kissed her, the effect had been instantaneous. Every nerve of her body buzzing in recognition of just who this was, and her heart had been ready to leap out of her chest, fighting to beat in tandem with his. It was familiar, easy, comfortable, in a way most things in life weren’t. It had seemed like her entire consciousness had been rewired to focus the assault to her senses that his kiss had provoked and Satine only now recognized how starved for his touch she had been and the knowledge of having to part from him again only made her entire body cold with loss. 

How cruel was it, that they were given this only to have it taken away once more? 

But Korkie would be alright, and Satine couldn’t bring herself to regret having to bear the torture of Obi-Wan’s absence once more if that were the case. As much as she loved Obi-Wan, she would bear that burden a hundred times over if it meant that Korkie recovered. She had the suspicion he might follow her lead in that and somehow, that made everything better. 

She left the room quietly, pausing to cast a last long glance at his sleeping form, before she returned by Korkie’s side, once again soothed by the crystal’s powers. Healer Bant had told them it wouldn’t do anything to treat the roots of what was making him sick – the transplant would do that – but at least in the meantime, it abated the pain and other symptoms that made him so weak and hurt. It was a relief, and Satine took what she could. She’d learnt not to get greedy. 

***

The next few days seemed to manage the impossibility of passing in a blur yet stretch far longer than any reasonable day should. 

Korkie received the first transplant the same day Obi-Wan had cried himself to sleep, and Healer Bant had told them he’d responded perfectly well to the treatment, prompting her to follow course.

Satine had been able to contain her composure throughout them all so far, but she was more than slightly aware that the nerves she hid admirably under her aristocratic mask were all too visible to Obi-Wan, if the knowing looks he kept giving her were any indication. She dutifully and expertly ignored them all, but it didn’t deter him from levelling deadpanning eyebrows at her every time she shifted. 

After what had transpired between the two of them, finding a semblance of normalcy had been rather…arduous. It seemed that something had finally come to head, and a wall had tumbled down, allowing their past banter and lost familiarity to make a resurgence at the oddest time, until awkwardness and discomfort seeped back in the air between them, stilting the camaraderie in exchange of stiff postures, embarrassed looks and exhausted sighs. 

It seemed to become a fixture in their interactions if the odd looks that the healer addressed them when she caught the shifts were anything to go by. She didn’t comment on it, thankfully. Satine had no wish to explain exactly _why_ that was, even if their past relationship was a rather open secret considering the fact that Obi-Wan was Korkie’s father. Still. The less said out loud to outside parties, the better Satine felt. Which was not saying much by any means, but it was better than nothing. 

Anakin also made regular appearances in the treatment room, distracting Korkie when the little boy was awake, which, to Satine’s greatest pleasure, seemed to be more and more often. 

Every day she saw more color return to his face, every day she saw his cheeks filling in once more now that he could stomach his food, every day she saw his eyes shine brighter and Satine’s heart sang. 

She wasn’t ready when Korkie spoke again. For nearly six months he’d been reduced to painful moans and whines and even with the treatment, the little boy had still been quite tired and usually contented himself with unintelligible vocalize that were more accurately labelled grunts than anything else. 

As she fed him one day while Obi-Wan was teaching Anakin katas, if she had understood correctly, she was speaking nonsensically to the room at large, often looking straight at Korkie as if he would grasp all her rhetorical questions. It never failed to grab his attention in any case, and her little boy was staring intently at her with his wide and intense gray-blue eyes fixed on her face, virtually drinking her words while munching on the puree she was feeding him. 

“You know Korkie, maybe we should explore a little once you’re all better, what do you say? We’ve been cooped up inside for so long, it might do us good. Would you like that?” 

In the high chair provided from the crèche, Korkie didn’t say anything, but opened his mouth in clear indication he wanted another spoonful. She chuckled, complying immediately and he batted his legs once he received the food. It made her smile widen. 

It seemed surrealistic, being here and feeding Korkie in such a normal way. Part of her couldn’t remember the last time things had been this quiet, this normal and uncomplicated, while the other felt like it was only yesterday, as if a ruptured rope suddenly latched back in place to allow normalcy to flow once again. 

Obi-Wan hadn’t seemed surprised when she’d mentioned it. He’d only smiled with that mysterious air that told her he felt at least remotely similarly to what she was experiencing but wouldn’t say so out loud. 

She let out a small, exaggerated exclamation once the bowl was eaten clean. 

“All done! Did you like the puree Korkie?” she leaned forward with a cooing smile, knowing she might look like a deranged person doing so. She figured a while ago that most adults talking to babies and toddlers probably looked and sounded like deranged persons and she was past caring. 

“Good!” Korkie shouted with a wide toothy smile, throwing his hands in the air. Satine froze for a moment, staring at her son like he’d suddenly disappeared and reappeared in front of her. 

She let out a breath, blinking to try and gather her wits and avoid alarming the little boy who seemed to realize something was up, for he tilted his head to the side in that same way he used to when puzzled by something. 

“Did you like the puree Korkie?” she repeated after struggling a little, looking intently at the little boy who seemed to be reassured by the additional question for the smile returned to his lips. 

“Puwee good!” he said again with the important air of a politician Satine just knew Obi-Wan would tease her about. She let out a chuckle that was more wet puff of air than anything as she marveled at hearing his voice so joyful again. 

It was pain free and instead filled with that carefree tone that children produce without meaning to. She hadn’t realized how starkly she’d missed hearing that sound until now; how she’d missed trying to piece out often incomprehensible babble, or how she’d missed gazing in wonder when he uttered complicated words absolutely perfectly. 

“That’s right,” she said, doing her best not to let the joy of hearing him speak overwhelm her. She could already feel tears in her eyes. “The puree was good.” 

Korkie gave an emphatic nod, his chubby hand clapping in front of him. She rose from her seat and bent to gather him in her arms. He went readily, and she let out another wet chuckle when he decidedly put his arms around her neck, actively snuggling in her neck. 

She rocked from side to side as she continued to repeat how good that damn puree was. She’d make puree every day if it made him continue to speak. She didn’t care how nonsensical that thought was, she was far too deliriously happy to care. 

Obi-Wan found her like that after his teaching lesson and he stared at her completely lost when she babbled with the same coherency as their son about what had just happened. For a second he looked a little worried until he managed to make out what she’d said and his whole posture softened, giving her an indulgent smile. 

Obi-Wan had approached them, making Korkie perked up in attention at the newcomer, and the little boy listened intently when Obi-Wan spoke to him, touching his hand gently. They both laughed when Korkie answered again, but Satine saw how emotional it made Obi-Wan. He’d never heard Korkie speak after all. She pushed away the guilt raising its ugly head at that, instead focusing on the moment. After everything that happened, she felt she was entitled to enjoy that little tidbit of joy.

Korkie knew Obi-Wan by now, but Satine hadn’t said anything about him being his father. She couldn’t. They hadn’t spoken of it, but she knew that Obi-Wan agreed tacitly from the exchanged looks and the quiet sighs that came up when Anakin asked about Korkie’s father. The uncertainty of the future still presented itself like a thorn in their side, not debilitating enough to stop the normal cycle of their life, but constantly sending painful reminders that this couldn’t last. 

Satine knew for a fact that the Council had decided to wait until Korkie was well before addressing the matter. Master Yoda had visited, in company of Master Plo Koon, to take news of the little boy. They’d been dutifully impressed by the change and happy that he would be soon out of danger if the treatment continued to go so well, which seemed to be the case so far. 

They had both been discreet and hadn’t done more than hint subtly that it would need to be discussed at one point or another. Obi-Wan seemed sullen after that particular conversation, and she couldn’t blame him. Spending time with both Korkie and Anakin made her quickly realize that the decision that lay ahead wouldn’t be pleasant. 

She couldn’t help but wonder whether Anakin suspected anything. Obi-Wan’s paternity was never discussed, whether in front of him or otherwise, but the more time passed, the more she speculated that he might. Whenever she formulated these thoughts, his shock at touching Korkie’s hand that first time seemed to instantaneously pop up in her mind. 

What had made him recoil as such? Feeling Korkie’s disease? She knew from Obi-Wan that every living thing had a Force signature, more or less bright and potent in the wide tapestry of the Force. 

Non-Force-sensitive were harder to decipher since they did not project much, and it required either a particular strong Force-sensitive or close relationship to make out any detail beyond their simple presence. She had suspected it already, and so hadn’t been surprised when he’d told her that Korkie was Force-sensitive. 

He’d looked positively queasy with nerves when he delved into that particular topic, she wasn’t entirely sure why, but she’d taken her fun by pretending to be shocked and vaguely mad because of it. He hadn’t stopped glaring for two hours after she’d bursted out laughing, Korkie joining in even if he had no idea what was going on. It made Satine wonder if perhaps Obi-Wan and Korkie’s Force signature might be similar, if there was a way to tell that they were related. She understood that Anakin was particularly strong in the Force after an interesting conversation with Obi-Wan, perhaps he had managed to make the connection? 

If he had, the soon to be ten-year-old hadn’t said a single word about it. 

This strange existence continued on for a little while, and Satine took one day at a time, forcing herself to stay in each moment and to keep her mind there. She knew that the second she started thinking ahead, the relative peace of mind she had garnered over the last week or so would shatter as easily as crystal and spin her in a downward spiral she didn’t care to rejoin. She’d done enough of that for an entire lifetime and she relished in the serenity while it lasted. 

Which wasn’t particularly long. 

Now a few days later, Satine and Obi-Wan stood out of the way for the Chief Healer and Healer Bant to perform the last tests on Korkie, and ensure that the treatment had fully worked. She had been wringing her hands every time she was idle since she had woken up, incapable of repressing the stress eating at her. These tests would determine whether Korkie was healed or not and despite how well things had been going and the obviously relaxed posture of both healers, Satine couldn’t help but contemplate every possible catastrophic scenario to the point that she was annoying herself and huffing every time she caught herself delving into yet another one. 

Obi-Wan was standing next to her, observing the scene carefully, although he sent her odd looks accompanied by a raised eyebrow every time she huffed.   
He didn’t bother telling her to calm down – he’d tried that earlier that morning and she’d glared so fiercely he’d taken a step back. His expression had adequately translated the _“I’m not trying that again”_ he was probably thinking. 

Eventually Master Che turned to them with a professional expression that nonetheless bloomed in a quiet smile at the sight of them. 

“All the tests are normal – we checked his blood and all his white blood cells are within normal range. He doesn’t present any respiratory difficulties, heartbeat, temperature, you name it, everything is looking good. He is perfectly healthy,” she announced warmly. 

“Oh thank the gods,” she breathed out, eyes closing. Satine felt she could have crashed to the ground right here and then with the strength of the relief.

She turned to Obi-Wan who wouldn’t have looked more winded if he’d just fallen from the sky, and laughed. She must have looked crazed, but how was it possible to feel so _light_? 

He opened his eyes, sending her an odd look before he let out a chuckle at her hilarity and before she could think better of it, she was in his arms, her own tightly wound around his shoulders like he would disappear if she let go. 

The thought of him pushing her away didn’t even cross her mind, and yet she was relieved when he returned the embrace readily, his face in her neck and his breath warm and sharp. She couldn’t even be surprised when she started crying. But it wasn’t wracking her anymore – it was light and soft, her relief shining in the crystalline tears Obi-Wan brushed away when he released her with a soft smile. 

The two healers had left the room, giving them privacy and she was grateful – even if she knew they were toeing a line they might not be able to come back from if they crossed it. 

Even as she turned towards where Korkie happily babbled to himself, her hand lingered on his shoulder until she needed to let go if she wanted to take her son in her arms. Korkie wriggled in her arms, obviously trying to face up front rather than behind her. 

She let out a chuckle and settled him on her hip. “Alright baby boy, alright.”

“Mama why cry?” he cocked his head to the side, looking at her with adorably confused eyes. He brought his chubby hand to her cheek, touching the tears still free falling quietly and she felt a brilliant smile bloom on her face. 

“That’s because I’m happy _ad’ika_ , very very happy,” she told him, kissing his nose. He let out a sparkling laugh, turning his head away. 

Obi-Wan stood the side looking distinctively uncomfortable, swinging his eyes here and there as if he wasn’t sure he was allowed to be here anymore, now that the treatment was over. 

It broke her heart a little and she closed the distance between them, making him look up at her in alarm. Why he still though he shouldn’t be here even after spending time with them every day during and in between Korkie’s treatment sessions she didn’t know, but she hated it. While they weren’t forced to let anything go, she would make sure he could have that… It was the least she could do after everything. 

The thought that the Council would now manifest itself and demand of Obi-Wan he make a decision threatened to burst her bubble but she didn’t let it, pushing it away as far as she could. This was a happy moment, one she could finally share with him and Satine wasn’t sure when the last time she’d been so deliriously happy had been. 

“Look here Korkie,” she said and the little boy’s butterflying attention snapped back to her. “Let’s go in Obi’s arms, hum?” 

Obi-Wan threw her a glance but opened his arms regardless, ready to receive the little boy who went without a fuss. Obi-Wan had held him many times in the course of the last weeks, but never when the boy was conscious and coherent. To the exception of these last few days when Korkie had finally been able to stay awake, if still subdued, the boy had been in a pain-ridden daze for as long as Obi-Wan had known him and despite doing his absolute best to hide it, Satine could see his anxiety on his face, clear as day. 

Obi-Wan settled the boy against him with the same ease he’d manifested so far, but his entire body language seemed to indicate he was waiting for the other shoe to drop, staring at Korkie as if he thought he would throw a tantrum or yell for his mother. 

Korkie did neither, instead continued looking around the same way he had when he’d been in his mother’s arms, until Obi-Wan shifted, Satine noticing he was trying to calm down and Korkie snapped his eyes to his father’s face. 

Obi-Wan instantaneously froze, whole body tensing and eyes wide like a krugga deer caught in headlights. Satine smiled at his expression, but her attention was snatched by the intense look on Korkie’s face. She’d never seen him so intently focused on anything, his eyes fixed in Obi-Wan’s, and she felt like she’d seen that expression somewhere. She frowned a little, unable to place it. The resemblance between them was uncanny, their eyes perfectly mirroring each other’s and something in Satine warmed at the sight. 

Breaking the standstill, Korkie raised his hand to Obi-Wan’s face just like he had with Satine, his gray-blue eyes blinking a little and his mouth slightly agape, looking very much like he was trying to puzzle something out. 

And then Korkie smiled, his whole face lighting up. “Buir!” 

Satine’s eyes widened, gasping at the word, and she stared at her son in complete bafflement. How had he…? 

Something clicked. She knew where she’d seen that expression. 

On Anakin the day he touched Korkie’s hand. Well at least now she knew what Anakin had understood that day, thanks to Korkie’s exclamation. She swallowed a little hard, the word echoing in her mind, before her eyes trailed to Obi-Wan’s puzzled expression. 

“What did he say?” he asked, genuinely confused. She supposed that after three years, it was expected that Obi-Wan would forget all the Mando’a he’d learnt for the mission. She took in a breath, unsure whether to answer. 

Korkie turned to her with his toothy smile and utter obliviousness to the weight of what he’d just said. He, in fact, looked particularly proud of himself and Satine’s shoulders deflated in an amused exasperation, shaking her head at her son. 

“Satine?” 

She turned back to Obi-Wan, smiling pursed-lipped as she petted Korkie’s red hair back, the boy relishing in the attention. 

“He said ‘buir’,” she said, meeting his eyes as Korkie shifted excitedly in his arms, happy to hear it again. “It means ‘parent’.”

o.0.o

Obi-Wan did a double take at her reply, and looked back down at his son, who mirrored his movement. He had been trying to release his nervousness into the Force when Korkie had snapped up at attention, startling him with that intensely sharp look of his, and he felt him reach out in the Force. 

He’d recognized Korkie to be Force sensitive, and despite being aware that youngling his age often displayed Force abilities entirely unconsciously, he’d never expected Korkie to purposefully reach out to him. He’d been very careful to keep up his shields whenever he was in Korkie’s proximity, to ensure the boy wouldn’t sense his, as of late, often whirling emotions in the Force. Feeling his son’s Force signature brush against his had thrown him in a loop, and then again at Korkie’s sudden exclamation, derailing his train of thoughts. 

_Parent_.

That Korkie had been able to recognize their relationship as soon as Obi-Wan let down his shields was utterly astounding. They’d met not two weeks prior, Korkie had no reference whatsoever besides his mother to compare his Force signature, and Satine wasn’t Force sensitive. The discovery both amazed and terrified him. He’d barely ever heard of any Jedi having a child, and he couldn’t help but wonder if that fact would reflect in Korkie’s midi-chlorian count. 

Obi-Wan swallowed past the anxiety at that thought, to try and focus on the smiling little boy, so vastly different from the ghastly pale toddler of two weeks prior. He could easily picture Satine’s description of their son’s personality in the boy he was holding now, bright-eyed and bubbly, and it warmed his heart, distracting him from the mounting worry over the Council upcoming meeting. 

He hadn’t told Satine yet, but Master Windu had inquired about Korkie’s health just the day before. The korun master had seemed glad to hear that the little boy was doing much better, and if Obi-Wan trusted the relief to be genuine, he wasn’t naïve enough to believe that the question was purely an unmotivated one. 

He knew he would have to face the Council at one point or another and that perspective terrified him to the point that nightmares plagued him every time he slept. The nature of his dreams had changed from the moment they had found out he was a match for Korkie, and for a few blissful days, his sleep had remained uninterrupted, restful. The more time passed though, the more obvious it became that this lull would eventually come to an end. 

He exchanged a look with Satine when Korkie pointed at her and then at him, repeating the word with such a proud expression that it made Obi-Wan’s eyes fill with mirth. Unconscious, Korkie already had him wrapped around his little finger, and Obi-Wan wondered just how bad it would get now that Korkie was awake with this impish glint in his eyes. 

Satine looked resigned by the fact that Korkie had figured them out without prompting, but she didn’t seem particularly chagrined and it bolstered Obi-Wan forward.

“Yes Korkie,” he acknowledged, gaining the boy’s attention instantaneously. He threw a quick glance at Satine and she nodded. “I am your father,” he said, tasting the word on his tongue like a foreign fruit. 

Korkie smiled and gave a decisive nod, as if he was happy Obi-Wan finally got it. “Papa,” he said, as he tapped Obi-Wan’s chest and his heart lurched. 

How was this happening? Never had he ever imagined he would hear anyone call him that. The thought had been so foreign, it might as well have been from the unknown regions of the Galaxy. Hearing Korkie, who he’d only met two weeks ago, pronounce that word so naturally and with such confidence was mystifying.   
Obi-Wan found he liked it, and that was somehow worse than anything, because he might never hear the boy say it again. 

He started a little when Satine put her hand on his arm, while grabbing Korkie’s hand. 

“Yes _ad’ika_ , that’s papa,” she cooed at him, brushing their nose together until Korkie let out a squeal and retreated back, snuggling the top of his head in Obi-Wan’s neck and the Jedi’s throat grew tight. Satine sent him a knowing look, her smile ever so gentle and dotted with sadness, and Obi-Wan was shocked into silence for several moments. 

This was so…domestic. 

Since their kiss, Satine and he had been dancing around each other, one moment smoothly sailing through conversations and banter, while the next they stumbled upon invisible rocks, bumping against awkward silences and uncomfortable tension. 

Obi-Wan hadn’t realized that the door he’d thought closed years ago was still wide open, and he was plunging down, free falling again like a teenager in love. 

Part of him was still upset, but… He didn’t want to hold on to it. It seemed so inconsequential in the face of the moments that were given to him now. When the strain between Satine and he abated enough that their eyes found each other’s easily and they could smile and indulge in casual touches that seem to have the quality of old habits, foreign with disuse and yet familiar in the residue of routine they belonged to. Resentment was corrosive, and he didn’t want to spoil the little time he was gifted now. 

And then there was Korkie. Even if he couldn’t hold a candle to Anakin regarding calming babies, Obi-Wan was far from inept with children, having helped enough time in the crèche to know how to handle himself around them. But it was the knowledge that this youngling was different that propelled him into a most peculiar mindset. 

He knew that Korkie was his son, knew since the day of Satine’s arrival. And yet, every time he found himself pondering over that fact, it sent him into a frenzy, the realization that _he’d helped made this human_. It never failed to make Obi-Wan retreat from that train of thought with the swiftness befitting a first degree burn. 

It was unbecoming of a Jedi to indulge in these thoughts. He sagely ignored the fact that Jedi were not meant to have children in the first place, but that could hardly be helped now. What he _could_ do however, was control his own feelings. It was only fair he did when he was hammering that same wisdom in Anakin’s brain nearly every day. That only brought him to question his status as a Jedi, and the inevitable anxiety of being stuck between a rock and a hard place, unable to make heads or tails of what he _wanted_. 

Satine suggested he might want to focus first on what he _needed_ , but Obi-Wan wasn’t sure that helped much. For the last two weeks, Obi-Wan had felt more emotions than he had in his entire life. It terrified him as much as it elated him, and the latter never failed to give rise to self-punishing guilt trips. 

He didn’t know how to work through any of it so that it made sense to him… Anakin could have as well tried talking to him in Huttese, it might have been clearer than attempting to make sense of his own feelings. Which was admittedly, a little alarming considering he’d heard Huttese about twice in his entire life, and those two instances had been Anakin cursing after burning himself with a practice saber. 

Slowly and with much effort, he attempted to focus back on the present. 

“Are you feeling better now, Korkie?” He addressed the boy in his arms, who perked up at the mention of his name. 

“Yes,” he proclaimed with yet another emphatic nod. Obi-Wan wondered where he’d picked up that habit, but Korkie was already talking again, pointing at his chest and then his tummy. “Good here!”

He noticed Satine smile at that, brushing her hand over the chubby stomach of the toddler. 

“That’s great,” Obi-Wan told the boy with a smile. “You should tell someone if it hurts again, you understand?” 

Korkie fixed him with his intense stare again. “Bad here, tell mama?”

Obi-Wan felt a smile bloom unbidden on his lips. “Yes exactly, tell mama.”

It was very strange indeed. This intimacy. To any outsiders, Obi-Wan wondered if they looked like a family. Did he want that? The answer came so easily it was dizzying and he slammed it down so forcefully he nearly gave himself whiplash. 

Korkie let out a wide yawn with all the might of a two-year old, eliciting a laugh from Obi-Wan, whose hand moved to cradle the back of the boy’s head without thinking. 

“Oh someone’s tired,” Satine commented as she looked critically and with an amused smile at Korkie’s now drooping eyes. 

“Why don’t we put you down for a nap, huh?” Obi-Wan suggested, his head tilting to face the boy hiding in his neck. 

Korkie shook his head vehemently as he straightened back up. 

“Not tired,” he protested, until another yawn split his face in two.

“Sure you’re not,” Obi-Wan commented amenably with a raised eyebrow, ignoring Satine’s smirk at him. He walked to the cot and deposited the boy gently. Korkie was on his feet in a flash, holding onto the railing of the crib, trying to lift his leg over it. 

“No, no, no _ad’ika_ ,” Satine scolded sternly, yet not unkindly, borrowing the tone Obi-Wan had heard a thousand times from crèche masters who’d been repeating the same instructions more time than it was possible to count. “We don’t leave the bed until we nap a little, you know this. Come on Korkie lie down.”

The boy plopped down on his butt in one smooth movement, crossing his arms over his chest with a pout, eliciting a surprised chuckle from Obi-Wan. 

“Now, where have I seen that face before,” he teased with a side-eye glance that was answered with a dignified raised eyebrow. 

“I do hope you mean in the mirror.”

“Of course I do,” he smoothly replied, smirking at her. She huffed, returning to coax their son into lying down. 

“Nap if mama nap,” Korkie bargained in such an authoritative tone that Obi-Wan lost his composure and let out a laugh, receiving a glare from the woman who’d definitely passed that onto the toddler. 

“Quite the negotiator,” he commented after taking a step back, and standing at a safe distance from Satine’s itching hand to slap the smirk off his face. 

“Takes one to know one,” she retorted. “No Korkie, mama doesn’t need a nap just yet, but you do. I can stay until you fall asleep or leave you until you do, that’s up to you.”

Her tone told Obi-Wan the argument wasn’t new by any means, but he could also clearly see that Satine was doing her best to stay in that stern composure she affected when she was nervous. After the prolonged fright regarding Korkie’s health, he could only be in awe at her ability to not cave at the boy’s demand when it was obvious she wanted to stick him to her chest and never let go. 

Korkie kept up his muted protest for a little while longer, until all the fight left him like someone had flipped a switch and he lied down without a word of protest. “Mama stay.”

“That was fast,” Obi-Wan couldn’t help but note. 

“That is because he is a smart boy.” Satine brushed Korkie’s hair back, and started humming a lullaby that dredged up old forgotten memories from Obi-Wan, who slowly leant forward, bending his elbows on top of the railing to listen to the quiet song. Korkie was lulled to sleep in barely a few minutes and Satine stopped singing. 

She let out a sigh as she shifted away from the crib with an expectant look. Catching up without missing a beat, Obi-Wan opened his arm, indicating her to precede him out the door. In two weeks, she had barely left the halls of healing, like an anchor was keeping her there, making her unable to stay away from Korkie very long.  
Obi-Wan thought it was only natural that she would want to get some air a little, now that Korkie was out of danger. 

“Where’s Anakin? I haven’t seen him in a while,” she noted as they walked across the balcony of a mezzanine at a leisurely pace. 

“I wouldn’t be surprised if he were in the archives. He’s been cooped up in there every spare time he has.” 

Four days ago, Obi-Wan had spent over an hour and a half looking for him across the entire temple, annoyance simmering at a low boil as he finally decided that checking the archives might be better than ignoring them. He couldn’t fathom why in the Force Anakin would end up there, he absolutely hated reading and had to be dragged there every time he had an assignment for a class. Seeing his padawan engrossed in one of the thickest holobooks Obi-Wan had seen since his senior padawan classes had taken all the wind out of his sails. He ended up staring like a gaping fish for Force knew how long until Master Nu asked him if he was alright.

Anakin had told him he had a big assignment coming up, but Obi-Wan knew what shifty behavior looked like, and just an assignment didn’t require hiding all the material one was working on when one’s master came to check up on him. The boy had remained tight lipped and Obi-Wan could only trust his integrity that he wasn’t looking into bizarre topics. If that went on too long, Obi-Wan already knew where to look to verify Anakin’s claim. 

“Oh he’s studious, that is good.”

Obi-Wan scoffed. “He normally isn’t, that’s what’s worrying me.”

She laughed good-naturedly and Obi-Wan felt himself soften for barely a moment, before anxiety gripped his insides once more. Satine must have picked up on his quickly sobering mood for she paused in her steps, her hand on his chest halting his steps. 

“What is it?”

“Nothing,” he replied a bit too fast and she squinted at him. 

Letting out a sigh, he surreptitiously gave a cursory glance around them. He’d caught a few curious glances thrown at them as they strolled through the halls and he had absolutely no wish to dig into that particular nerve in the middle of the temple. 

With her usual shrewdness, she caught on his reluctance and grabbed his arm, dragging him away. 

“Wh-”

His protests died on his lips as she brusquely turned a corner leading them away from the main mezzanine. Obi-Wan distinctively felt like a youngling skipping class, and he couldn’t help but feel like he would be in trouble if found out.

Now a bit more obscured and out of the way, Satine released him and stood in front of him, folding her arms over her chest.

“Now, I’ll ask again – and I’ll let it up to your imagination to conjure an image of my reaction if you even think about lying–” and if that wasn’t the most convincing argument he’d ever heard. “What is it?”

He bunched his jaw, meeting her gaze challengingly. He wasn’t lying if he didn’t say anything. Her gaze darkened minutely, obviously aware of what he was doing but she didn’t utter a word. Eventually he rolled his eyes, before sighing and looking away. 

“Voicing it, is just…”

She softened, her stance relaxing. “It makes it real?”

Obi-Wan breathed out, nodding in defeat. 

“We both know that not saying it doesn’t make it any less real,” she said after a small pause. He met her steadfast gaze forlornly, knowing she was right and that she understood perfectly the reservation anyway. 

“I don’t know what to do,” he whispered so quietly, Satine had to lean forward minutely. Once she registered the words her expression shifted, melting from the quiet reassurance to deep sadness and resignation. 

His words shattered his standstill and he went along with his momentum before she could say anything. 

“I can’t sleep, I wake up every night, dreaming about it. I don’t know what to _do_ Satine. I cannot leave Anakin, but I–… I don’t want to leave Korkie either, and I can’t let you go again, not now that I’ve got you.” 

He closed his eyes at the admission, his Jedi oath ringing in his head. He wasn’t supposed to admit such things… Attachment, possession… they were foreign to a Jedi and meant to remain as such, and yet here was Obi-Wan, unable to resist the call of either. It filled him with shame but he couldn’t bring himself to let it go. 

He jerked when he felt cool hands framing his face and he snapped his eyes open, finding Satine closer than she was before, gently brushing a thumb over his cheekbone. 

“I’m really sorry that I put you in this position,” she said quietly and Obi-Wan shook his head vehemently.

“That’s what you were trying to avoid, the first time.”

She scoffed self depreciatingly. “And look how well that turned out,” she derided. “The situations aren’t comparable Obi-Wan. We both should have spoken that first time, and I should have said something when I learnt about Korkie.”

She paused, before leaning forward and pressing her forehead against his. Obi-Wan let out a shaky breath, his eyes closing out of their own volition at the closeness.   
“I would never hold it against you if you chose to stay here,” she whispered and Obi-Wan felt his heart break. He knew what she was trying to do. 

It should have made it better, easier. To know that no matter what, she would support his decision. But it didn’t. Because it left it all up to him, and he was _lost_. 

Either option seemed unfathomable. How was he supposed to continue living his life knowing what he had abandoned behind? He couldn’t. It felt like the Force was taunting him, putting his resolve to the test by coercing him into making such a choice. 

If there was one thing he was certain of, it was that no matter what he chose, he would be missing a part of him for the rest of his life. No matter what he chose, Obi-Wan didn’t think he could ever feel whole again. 

He was breathing shakily when he gazed up at her, meeting her eyes where something infinitely soft, and infinitely sad burned, reflecting the precarious balance he was in. He’d wanted a choice… And yet now, faced with the reality of perhaps the most important one he would ever been given, Obi-Wan couldn’t help but resent it.

“I don’t know what the Council will ask of me,” he admitted in a breath. Satine tilted her head, inviting him to continue and he closed his eyes for a moment, willing his resolve. “They might expulse me straight away.”

He couldn’t help but wonder if that wouldn’t be better than to have to make the choice himself. He instantly shut the thought down, disgusted by the cowardice it displayed. 

Satine narrowed her eyes in a mixture of surprise and subdued outrage. “They wouldn’t… You didn’t do anything wrong,” she protested immediately and he couldn’t help but smile sadly. 

“Haven’t I though?” 

She sputtered for a moment, eyes searching as they swung to the floor. “You didn’t know about Korkie, we didn’t have any contact…I thought strictly physical relationships were not banned?”

“It wasn’t strictly physical though was it?” he countered softly and his words seemed to have the same effect as a harsh wind in Satine’s face. She blinked, snapping her mouth shut under his meaningful look. 

“Obi-Wan–”

“I still love you, you know,” he rushed out, not wanting to hear what she would say. 

Her eyes widened as she stared at him like she’d never seen him, a barely audible gasp breaching her lips. He smiled. 

Somehow, and even if the part of him that was still clinging ardently to the Code was making his head pound, it was incredibly easy to admit. As if voicing the words afforded the same effect of balm on a burn, soothing to the core, while keeping them enclosed into the darkest corners of his mind had only felt like a festering poison. 

He let out a breathy chuckle. “I don’t think I ever stopped loving you, I don’t think I ever could... I just hadn’t realized it until I saw you again.”

Her eyes were glistening with tears, but he didn’t think she was upset. Her Force signature seemed overwhelmed, but it was bright and sparkly rather than somber and jumpy. Raising his hand slowly, he encased her cheek with his palm, the same way she had, relishing in the softness of her skin.

Force, he loved her. It was deep and wide, all-encompassing and ever-present, coursing his veins, beating alongside his heart, swooping in his stomach and exploding in his mind. 

The knowledge that the race against time hadn’t stopped when a treatment was found for Korkie, was an ache he couldn’t shed. Korkie would be fine, and that was enough to assuage much of Obi-Wan earliest anxieties. But they had been in an in-between ever since and until now. 

Now the treatment was over, and Korkie was declared fully recovered and the last grains of their borrowed-time hourglass were gone. Their time was up. 

Even if the Council allowed him to stay, it would be at the condition that he never had any contact with the woman he loved and his son ever again. It was hardly a consolation. Never seeing them again was akin to be trapped under water, never be able to breathe again while somehow being kept alive. It would be a disaster all around. 

He had been filtering the bond he shared with Anakin so much since this all happened that it might as well have been dormant. His padawan had looked crestfallen the first time he’d felt the change, and Obi-Wan had to explain in no uncertain terms it was absolutely not a punishment for anything Anakin had done. Obi-Wan couldn’t in good conscience allow the boy unfiltered access to such tumultuous emotions… Not when he preached control every single day, and they were so somber… 

Beyond the stark sting of feeling like the worst hypocrite there was, Obi-Wan was sensible enough to realize that this couldn’t go on. He wanted to be there for Anakin, train him into the Jedi Obi-Wan knew he could become, but the fear of being detrimental to the boy’s growth was only increasing with every passing day, the more Obi-Wan felt like he was slipping. 

Obi-Wan closed his eyes, emotionally wrung out, before he let out a breath and looked again at Satine who was doing a marvelous job at not crying again. He forced out a smile. 

“Whatever happens, I want you to remember that. I can’t have it both ways, but at least, you’ll know.”

She pursed her lips, displeasure marring her forehead while her eyes broadcasted her emotions so starkly, Obi-Wan could have sworn they were his. 

Eventually she nodded, before swallowing, as if steeling herself for her next words. 

“For the sake of not repeating the same mistakes,” she started firmly, ensuring her eyes met his. “If that was what you wanted, I would want you to come with me.”

Obi-Wan felt like his heart was being ripped out of his chest. It didn’t matter that she had said it before. The second time was as raw as the first, if not more, and he bit his lip to quell the emotions bubbling behind the not-so calm façade he knew he was presenting. 

“I know there is Anakin,” she continued more softly, seemingly grasping onto how her words were affecting him. “And I’ll say it again; please know that if you chose to stay here to train him, I would never hold that against you. Korkie wouldn’t be alone; I’ll be there, and I’ll make sure he knows you, even if only through stories. And we never know, when Anakin is of age, you could come back to us.”

Obi-Wan let out a wet breath through his smile. “That sounds nice.”

She smiled, still repressing her tears, and resumed the gentle back and forth movement of her thumb. 

She pursed her lip minutely, before seemingly coming to a decision and she leaned forward, connecting their lips softly. Obi-Wan felt both like he had too much and not enough oxygen, his whole mind turning blank as he joined in the dance. It was chaste and over too soon, but Obi-Wan’s heart was ready to leap out of his chest. His eyes were stinging when she moved away. 

Obi-Wan let out a shuddery breath as she rested her forehead on his, and his eyes closed. 

“My dear Obi-Wan,” she whispered, sending a jolt down his spine as he opened his eyes, only for them to fall right into hers. “Please remember, I’ve loved you always, and I always will.” 

His breath hitched and deposited a kiss to her cheek, before he embraced her. Her breath was warm in his neck and her arms snaked around his shoulders, holding him as close as he was holding her. 

Her heart was beating in tandem with his, fast like an agitated bird, as if they realized the connection might never be as close as it was now. 

It was a sweet thought, and Obi-Wan held onto it. He didn’t know what kind of Jedi that made him, but if that was it, he would enjoy it and commit it to memory. 

At least now, he knew. It might crumble around him soon, but there was nothing he could do to stop it. He recalled what Satine had said. She had done what she could with what she had. 

He gave Satine another kiss on her cheek, his heart swelling when she leaned into it. 

If nothing else, the Force had allowed him to get these moments. He would cherish them to his last breath, no matter what happened. He closed his eyes, throat tight. 

If nothing else…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did you think? :)
> 
> The "I'm your father" reference was not exactly made on purpose, but if this gives a slightly less dramatic and more fluffy vibe to it, why not, right? 
> 
> The sentence "Resentment is corrosive" isn't from me, Tony Stark said it, but I found it fit perfectly to the situation. 
> 
> Here are the Mando'a translation:   
> ad'ika - kid, lad, boy, sweetie, darling, son, daughter, child  
> buir - parent 
> 
> We're nearly reaching the conclusion!! Next two chapters will be one big sequence split in two and then the epilogue. I hope you've enjoyed this chapter, and will enjoy the next few as well! Thanks for reading!! <3


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all again for the kudos and comments!! <3 
> 
> This chapter is much shorter than the rest - the initial chapter was far too long, and I needed to cut it somewhere, and this was the best way to do so, even if it meant this was shorter. 
> 
> I might post the next one faster because of that, I'll see! 
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

They were back in the council chambers, the very next day that it was announced Korkie was recovered, surrounded by the scrutinizing gaze of all council members peering at them. 

It was at the price of a supreme effort that Obi-Wan managed to keep his shields intact and a somewhat calm composure. Satine was the picture of the unflappable duchess next to him, but he knew her well enough to discern the worry lines creasing her forehead. 

Master Yoda hummed, his clawed hands folded over the head of his gimmer stick. 

“Happy I am, that better, little Korkie is,” he started, a gentle smile as he looked upon the boy resting in Satine’s arms. 

Obi-Wan could feel the genuine murmur in the Force echo from the rest of the council. He gave a side-eye glance to said little Korkie, who was by far, a much livelier version than the one they had met two weeks ago. Presently, he was playing with the necklace around Satine’s neck, babbling to himself and completely uncaring that he was the focus of twelve Jedi. 

Obi-Wan sobered when Master Yoda continued. 

“Now, discuss the situation, we must,” he declared, reminding everyone why they were here. Obi-Wan didn’t think anyone needed a reminder, but he held his tongue.  
“If I may, Master Yoda?” Satine surprised him by speaking first. 

Master Yoda nodded slowly and Obi-Wan startled at how she addressed himself as she spoke next. 

“Master Obi-Wan did not have any knowledge of Korkie before my arrival. We did not stay in contact after his return to Coruscant three years ago.”

As much as it hurt to hear it, Obi-Wan knew what she was trying to do. 

Master Yoda chuckled, humming knowingly. “Know that, we do. From his reaction, obvious it was.”

Obi-Wan couldn’t help his cheeks flaming at the impish gleam in the old Jedi’s eyes, feeling the Force thrum with amusement. 

“Relationship, you had, hum?” Master Yoda continued, and whether he was oblivious to, or relishing in, Obi-Wan’s embarrassment, was anyone’s guess. 

Satine glanced at him, obviously deferring that answer to him and really, there was only one answer to be given but how to say it without turning beet red again?

“We only ever acted on our feelings once Master Yoda.” 

Surely, kissing didn’t count. He could practically feel his own conscience looking contemptuously down at him for that omission, but he ignored it. He’d managed not to mutter, and really, that was an accomplishment, and all he ought to focus on, surely. 

Despite Satine’s amused eyebrow raise next to him, he could see that she wasn’t less affected by disclosing such detail to the entire Jedi council, and her cheeks were dusted pink. 

Be that as it may, they couldn’t exactly deny anything when the proof of such detail was starting to get fussy from wanting to be put down on the floor.

As Satine had rightfully said the day before, partaking in purely physical relationships was not considered a problem, and he knew for a fact that most Jedi did, in fact, do so. 

And like he had told her, it wasn’t the physical part which was frowned upon, as much as the relationship part. The code forbidding attachment, it forbade, by extension, pursuing committed relationships and having a family outside the order. Bar exception, such as in the case of Master Ki-Adi Mundi who had been granted the right to have a family with whom he nonetheless couldn’t interact, all Jedi must abide by these rules. 

In that sense, Satine and Obi-Wan’s case was not exactly a novelty, if it weren’t for the fact that Korkie was born and that there were feelings involved. Feelings that even Obi-Wan couldn’t – and wouldn’t – deny existed. 

“Korkie was… an accident,” Satine added with a wince, obviously strongly disliking calling her son an accident, but doing so for the sake of argument. 

Master Yoda tapped his gimmer stick imperiously against the edge of his seat. “No such thing as accident, there is.”

Next to him, Satine’s lips parted and she frowned in confusion, while Obi-Wan squinted at the maxim spoken in such an instance. 

Korkie let out a small whine as he tried to escape her hold, and would have if Satine hadn’t caught him deftly before lowering him to the floor and whispering to him not to wander. 

He listened about as well as any two year old, and to his credit, he did stay next to his parents legs. For thirty seconds. 

He walked in this swaying manner small children unfailingly adopted, circling around their legs for twenty-nine of these seconds, until apparently he grew fascinated by Master Fisto tentacles and he jogged staggeringly towards his seat. 

Satine gasped as he tripped over his own feet and Obi-Wan jumped into action before registering he was doing it, grabbing Korkie in the split second before he face-planted against the marble floor. He let out a strong relieved breath, gathering the unperturbed boy in his arms. Korkie batted his legs and arms, obviously unhappy at being taken up again. 

“Down, down!” 

“Nope sir,” Obi-Wan said sternly, and gaining the boy’s wide-eye stare on him as Obi-Wan lifted his shields ever so slightly, reaching out to show the boy he was serious. Korkie stopped flapping around immediately. “If you can’t stay still, you’re not going down. Understood?”

“Yes Buir,” came the contrite reply and Korkie extending his arm around Obi-Wan’s neck in apology. 

It was only when he sensed the muted shock, faint disapproval and hints of amusement in the Force that Obi-Wan realized where exactly he was, and how his interactions with Korkie must have looked like. It probably didn’t matter that they might not have known what “buir” stood for, his reaction was incriminating enough.

“You’re attached,” Master Windu noted flatly. It wasn’t a question and Obi-Wan thinned his lips. 

“He’s very persuasive,” he quipped in lieu of an answer, earning himself a dry hum, but he relaxed at Master Yoda’s twinkling gaze. “Be still, alright?” he said to Korkie and the boy nodded before Obi-Wan put him on the floor where he stood perfectly still, reaching up to grab Obi-Wan’s hand. 

He barely managed to hide the jerk of surprise the gesture elicited but he wasn’t enough of a fool to think that no one in the room had caught on anyway. The only one who probably hadn’t, was the unknowing culprit responsible for it. 

“The boy is Force sensitive,” Master Koon commented calmly and Obi-Wan turned to him. 

“Yes. Stronger than I originally thought.” 

He felt Satine stiffen subtly at his side, and he glanced at her reassuringly. Never the Order would take a child from their parents without explicit consent. If Satine didn’t wish for Korkie to go to the temple – which Obi-Wan couldn’t ever imagine her allowing – then he wouldn’t. 

“Rare are the Jedi who ever produced younglings. It begs the question as to whether the Force is stronger in such offspring,” Master Koon continued after acknowledging Obi-Wan’s answer with a nod, and turning to Master Mundi who caught on quickly. 

“Some of the children I sired did have Force-sensitivity, but I do not believe my fathering them overly strengthened their presence in the Force,” he explained.

“He won’t be trained at the temple,” Satine finally blurted out, unable to contain herself as she glanced warily between the masters discussing her son. 

“Fear not, Duchess Kryze,” Master Koon appeased. “This won’t happen unless you agreed.” 

Satine didn’t look particularly more relaxed, but she snapped out of her weariness when Korkie grabbed her hand too, his head tilted to the side like he was questioning her. Obi-Wan couldn’t help but smile, knowing he must have sensed her agitation. 

“I do believe I see what you meant, Knight Kenobi,” Master Koon commented, his voice communicating his smile better than his face did. 

“I think this is irrelevant,” Master Piell intervened in his accented speech and usual brashness. “We should be discussing Knight Kenobi’s infraction of the code,” he continued, and gestured to Korkie standing quietly behind his parents. 

Obi-Wan stiffened as he was once more the topic of discussion. 

“The child himself isn’t an infraction Master Piell,” Master Windu replied drily, sounding exhausted. 

“Perhaps not,” the small Jedi huffed. “But his attachment to both the child and the duchess clearly is.”

Obi-Wan could only stay as still as possible at the statement, which was hitting too close to home.

“Is it?” Master Yaddle asked cryptically, exchanging a glance with the Grand Master. 

Obi-Wan’s brows drew together at the bizarre question. Was she seriously asking whether his attachment was an infraction of the code? Before he could ponder over that longer, Master Piell continued, unrelenting.

“Do you deny this Kenobi?” 

Obi-Wan swallowed, unable to answer but he supposed his silence was incriminating enough and Master Windu let out a long-suffering sigh, his hand covering his eyes. 

Master Mundi looked pained. “You swore an oath, Kenobi.”

Obi-Wan allowed his eyes to fall shut for a moment, taking in the reminder that was so much more potent than any other rebuke, and Master Mundi knew there weren’t much to add to that. Master Piell didn’t have that restraint. 

“It isn’t the first time you’re letting your feelings cloud your judgement either, is it? No one here has forgotten the Melida/Daan debacle.” 

Obi-Wan snapped his eyes up at that. How _could_ he? Korkie shifted next to him, tugging on his hand gently and grounding Obi-Wan. 

He felt Satine snap in recognition next to him. 

He remembered telling her, and it wasn’t a particularly rejoicing memory. Back on Mandalore three years ago, after a particularly trying day during which they had redefined what it meant to “argue” and she’d spat at his face that he was a blind, cold-hearted zealot who couldn’t feel empathy for the pleas of ordinary people. Obi-Wan had been shocked silent, vexed and hurt. He’d ended up telling her about everything that had happened on Melida/Daan and she had been retroactively horrified by her callous insult, apologizing so profusely, he had needed to stop her. 

Even if it had been one of the biggest turning points in their relationship changing, Obi-Wan still remembered vividly the stricken expression that had marred her face. He saw a phantom of that devastation flash across her face now, and he thought he hated it as much now as he did then. 

“They needed help,” he gritted out, focusing on his shields to avoid jarring Korkie whose eyes he could still feel fixed on him. 

“It was not your mandate to give it to them,” Master Piell retorted. “You went against our orders, against your Master’s orders, and did whatever you pleased. You are meant to uphold peace, not meddle in political affairs.”

He was very aware of the concerned look Satine was observing him with and he let out a breath.

“How could we consciously declare ourselves peacemakers if we do not–”

“Peace _keepers_ Kenobi,” the older Jedi interrupted cuttingly. 

“There was no peace to begin with!” he countered, trying very hard not to sound exasperated, head swimming for barely an instant, as if in warning. “How can it be morally and ethically sound, as self-proclaimed peacekeepers, to look the other way when people need us because it is not in our _political_ mandate to help them?” 

Obi-Wan snapped his mouth shut, realizing belatedly that he’d just crossed a line with his insolence. 

Master Piell let out a long-suffering sigh as if Obi-Wan was a particularly dim child. 

“We cannot help everyone, Kenobi,” Master Fisto said regrettably, looking very much like he meant both the words and the fact that it couldn’t be helped. 

Obi-Wan didn’t disagree. He knew that, realistically, they couldn’t intervene everywhere. The galaxy was vast and there were many people in need of help that they couldn’t reach in time. He also very much agreed with the fact that the repercussions of their actions had to be put in the equation determining whether they should, in fact, take action or not. 

Their intervention could potentially be more harmful than letting things unfold by themselves. No matter how they were perceived by the public as mages of some sort, they were fallible in more respect than one, and their good intentions were often not enough to ensure successful outcomes. 

“You are a Jedi, Knight Kenobi, you have sworn an oath and has a responsibility to this Order and to the Republic. Or does it only matter when you wish it to?” Master Piell continued, unrelenting and it was all Obi-Wan could do to keep his mouth shut and breathe as deeply and calmly as he could. 

He simply couldn’t understand why this Council session had suddenly turned into a trial of all his past failings and the repetitive attacks were starting to grate his nerves. 

He knew he’d made mistakes and he knew he was liable to answer to them in front of the Council. He couldn’t fault the small Jedi for _what_ he was saying, because as much as it filled him with guilt and shame, to fall short of the standards he sought to live up to, it was still undeniably the truth, one he had accepted but couldn’t reconcile with what he was feeling now. 

What he had trouble grappling with, was the tenacity with which he was being attacked for all his past faults. Jedi were not meant to hold a grudge and once a matter was over, by means of fair punishment and apologies if it was an internal issue, they let it go. It didn’t seem such mentality was applicable now, and as much as he felt compelled to resent it, he didn’t allow himself to dip into that bowl. 

“I know I allowed my feelings to infer on my decision then,” he said as calmly and respectfully as he could, eyes trained to the floor for a moment before he looked at the older Master as he addressed him. “And I know that it was not my prerogative to make that decision, but I saw people who needed help, and I couldn’t deny them.”

“Just like you couldn’t deny her?”

Satine hitched a breath next to him and Obi-Wan went rigid, vision blurring at the edges as he stared at the master in complete shock. 

“This is uncalled for Master Piell,” Master Windu snapped, voice as smooth as barbed wire but Obi-Wan barely registered his intervention. 

Never had Obi-Wan expected such a personal and insulting barb on the part of one of the councilors, and even less so vis-à-vis Satine herself, who, if only by her being an outside party to the Order and even more so because of her title, was deserving of deference from the members of the Jedi Order. 

The most astonishing, was that Master Piell was utterly serious. Despite his vindictive tone, he wasn’t trying to be. It was more than obvious from the look in his eyes and the aura of his Force signature. 

He had no malignant intent, and Obi-Wan couldn’t fathom how his words could register as anything else than insulting. 

“Is there a point?” he gritted out, bile in his stomach. 

Master Piell let out a breath, fixing him with that inscrutable unyielding gaze. 

“My point, Knight Kenobi, is that actions have consequences and those consequences are not only yours to bear. How do you think they reflect on the Order? What example do you think it provides for your padawan?”

Obi-Wan swallowed at that. 

“Our order is first and foremost a community, meant to uphold principles of justice and equity. What do you think would happen if everyone started to take the same liberties that you are taking? You have trained decades to hold the title that you do now, you have sworn an oath to these principles and to a code of honor that you willfully flouted,” he said like a judge pronouncing his sentence.

“Do you think I do not understand what ‘Buir’ stands for?” he added, his voice only subtly less hard and Obi-Wan’s eyes fell on Korkie out of instincts, who’d looked up at the word. 

Only now was Obi-Wan realizing that the little boy had released Satine’s hand to put his other little one around his, doing his best to comfort him. Obi-Wan’s throat grew tight at the confusion, faintly marred with distress he could sense in his son’s Force signature. 

“You have a son, Kenobi. A son you’ve allowed yourself to grow attached to when you are very well aware that as a Jedi, you cannot entertain such rapport.”

Satine shifted next to him. “If I may Master Jedi,” she said sternly. “I am as guilty as Obi-Wan in that regard, I brought Korkie to his father.”

Master Piell softened minutely at that, confirming to Obi-Wan that as baffling as that was, his earlier insult hadn’t been meant as one, but rather as a mean to an end to prove a point. 

“As was your prerogative Duchess,” Master Mundi said sensibly. “We understand why you brought young Korkie to the temple.”

“You are not bound by our Code,” Master Piell added. “Knight Kenobi here, is, and knows that he is behaving entirely against it.” 

Obi-Wan let out a shaky breath. It all came down to this, didn’t it? He couldn’t have helped falling in love with Satine, it hadn’t been his decision to make, it had just happened. What he had chosen, was to act on these feelings and despite his better judgement, caving so fast when the chance to rekindle them had presented itself. 

And then Korkie. 

How was he meant to stay entirely detached and stoic when he was being told he had a son, and that son was dying? How was he supposed to not get emotional in such an instance? Any other day, Obi-Wan would have argued the sound logic behind the code, the necessity of detachment and emotional control; any other day he would scold Anakin for letting his emotions get the best of him; any other day, he would have forced himself to take a step back and meditate until the pressure was off. 

And despite believing in the ideals of the Jedi, the sense of their code of conduct and in the principles they chose to uphold, as he was put to the test here and then, he felt trapped. 

Korkie whined, tugging at his arm until Obi-Wan looked over at him. His gray-blue eyes held the same intensity as the day before, when the little boy had scrutinized him before concluding Obi-Wan was his father. 

“Why you sad?” 

Obi-Wan tried to smile and shook his head. 

“I’m not sad,” he said softly. Korkie did a remarkably well-executed imitation of his own unimpressed expression that stole a laugh out of him, which sounded more like a sad puff of air. 

“Yes, sad,” he insisted authoritatively, before he jumped to try touching his chest, completely in vain. “Sad here!” 

Obi-Wan sagged in defeat. 

Well, this was just remarkable. He couldn’t even hide his state of mind to a two-year-old. 

“Up!” Korkie added for good measure, making grabby hands up at him and Obi-Wan winced, surreptitiously looking up at, yet unseeing, the masters around them. His eyes fell on Satine unwittingly and she immediately caught on, before he himself had realized what he was asking. 

She smiled softly but subtly, already leaning forward to hold their son. “Come here _ad’ika_.”

Korkie grabbed Obi-Wan’s pants legs and tugged a few time, protesting faintly. It broke Obi-Wan’s heart to gently make the small hand let go and Korkie pouted fiercely even though he allowed his mother to take him up. 

When he straightened back up, Master Piell didn’t have the satisfied look of someone who’d just win an argument, but Obi-Wan nonetheless read the unspoken “Case in point” in the look he was addressed.

Before anything else could be said, the doors of the chambers busted open, making Korkie yelped and he started crying while everyone swiveled their attention to the new comer. 

Anakin was standing in the threshold and looked positively mortified for a whole second and a half before that very familiar determined gleam penetrated his gaze and Obi-Wan could only wonder what the boy had planned now. 

He could only hope he wouldn’t stir any more– 

“Jedi used to marry before!” was what he opened with and Obi-Wan deflated, closing his eyes in resignation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First part of the Council meeting - done! :) 
> 
> Regarding the council members characterization - I based it on the Clone wars mostly, but I apologize if it's a bit off... We don't know them all well...   
> For Master Piell, I may have gone overboard but I needed an antagonist, and when I read his personality description on Wookipedia he was said to be a bit bellicose... hence this. 
> 
> Also, my apologies if some facts inherent to the Jedi order - like the consent thing to take Force-sensitive children from their parents etc. - are inaccurate... I did do research, but if it is inaccurate, just pretend it's me taking creative license! 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it, and stay tuned for the next one!  
> Thank you for reading! <3


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, here is the second part of the Council Meeting, a little earlier! :D 
> 
> I hope you'll enjoy it! 
> 
> Oh, and thank you all again for the kudos and comments!!! <3

Dead silence welcomed his words. It stretched for several moments, and Obi-Wan sensed tendrils of anxiety steadily thrumming along their training bond. At least, Anakin’s interruption had the merit of sidetracking everyone, not in the least himself, from the earlier discussions. 

“Welcome young Skywalker. Invited, I believe you were not,” Master Yoda said good-naturedly and Obi-Wan saw Anakin’s cheeks dusting pink at the admonishment.   
“No master,” he muttered under his breath. 

“No matter, here now you are. Come closer.”

Anakin obeyed without a word, glancing up at Obi-Wan apologetically, but Obi-Wan knew he didn’t regret interrupting. 

“Talk about marriage, you did. Explain to us, what you mean,” he prompted, and it was all Anakin needed. 

“Marriage and attachment didn’t used to be prohibited,” he stated with his usual confidence, but uncharacteristic calmness, like he’d practiced his speech numerous times. “The structure of the Jedi Order was very different from what it is now when it was founded, and before the end of the great Sith War, Jedi were permitted to marry and to have attachments. It was only later than it was banned, because the Jedi of 4000 BBY thought that it would lead to the Dark Side.”

Obi-Wan was floored, and openly gaped at his padawan. Since when had Anakin gained such thorough knowledge of their Order’s origin? Anakin was staring straight ahead, at Master Yoda, making a herculean effort not to look down. 

“Know this, how do you?” Master Yoda asked, and something in his tone made Obi-Wan glanced at him in turn. There was something undecipherable in his eyes and Obi-Wan grew confused, like there was something at play he couldn’t understand.

“I did some research in the archives,” Anakin replied proudly, before he seemed about to speak again until he closed his mouth. 

Understanding dawned on him and Obi-Wan’s face went slack in shock. So that was what Anakin had been working on when he’d found him stuck in that book. And not only that, but Anakin’s endeavor obviously hadn’t been prompted by a sudden awakening of a passion for studying. Obi-Wan had no idea what to think. 

“A question, you have?”

Anakin squinted uncertainly before plowing on. 

“I mean no disrespect Master,” – and if that didn’t sound promising, Obi-Wan couldn’t help but think. “But isn’t the fear that attachment can lead to the dark side equally as bad as the fear of losing someone we’re attached to?”

Alright, that was it. Who in the kriffing galaxy was that, and what had they done with Anakin Skywalker?

Master Yoda chuckled, earning himself more than one incredulous glance. 

“Astute, your padawan is, Obi-Wan.” 

Obi-Wan let out a small confused noise at that, entirely lost as to what Master Yoda had in mind. 

Anakin’s intention was now clear as day, and he couldn’t help the rush of affection that surged through him at the realization. It must have bled through the bond despite his filters, if Anakin’s small, but infinitely pleased smile was any indication. 

“What do you think, Padawan?” Master Koon prompted, making Anakin’s eyes vacant for a few seconds as he thought of his answer. 

“I know it isn’t very Jedi-like but…” he trailed off, making a grimace that clearly indicated he was a bit apprehensive at the told-off he believed he would receive if he finished that sentence.

Master Koon gave a small nod. “Go on.”

Anakin didn’t hesitate long, and he released his lip, which he’d been chewing on, and delivered his piece. “I don’t understand why attachments are so bad.”

His words prompted a cascade of unintelligible murmurs around the room, and Obi-Wan could feel a tumult of diverging opinions echo through the plane of the Force. 

As for his own, he had no idea what to think. After the discussion that had just taken place, Obi-Wan felt like a loose branch caught in rapids, transported here and there without control. On the one hand, and despite his past mistakes, he’d been pushing himself to adhere to the code fully, put its principle in the forefront of the way he lived his life as a Jedi; but on the other, Satine’s arrival had reminded him of all the things the code didn’t seem to allow, creating a chasm within himself.   
“What makes you think that?” Master Windu asked, the wry edge of his tone controlled. Anakin seemed surprised not to receive more scorn for his confession, but didn’t waste time in explaining himself. 

“Doesn’t being attached to someone, mean we care about them and what happens to them? That we try to help them when we can and that we want them to be happy?” he tried to explain in his own words. 

Obi-Wan’s brows drew together somewhat at Anakin’s definition. A very laudable vision of the world to be sure, especially considering Anakin’s upbringing, and if only attachment solely meant that, Obi-Wan thought that perhaps it wouldn’t be prohibited at all. 

“That is a rather selfless understanding, Padawan Skywalker,” Master Fisto noted, sharing a look with other Masters. “Don’t you think attachment could lead to want to keep that person to yourself, to possess them?”

Anakin seemed to genuinely ponder the question, until the last few words, which had his eyes widen dramatically in horror. He shook his head vehemently. 

“No! Only the masters possess others,” he declared very seriously, and Obi-Wan had no doubt that everyone caught on to who exactly he referred to with the word ‘masters’ for the atmosphere in the room seemed to plummet several degrees. “If we care about someone, we don’t want to possess them, we want what’s best for them.” 

His expression turned wistful, his eyes veiling. 

“That’s why my mother let me go,” he added with a small shrug. 

The nature of the silence that met his words was vastly different – more solemn, more contemplative and Obi-Wan felt something shift. 

“Is she the one who taught you that?” Master Mundi asked very gently, and Anakin nodded. 

Silence descended again across the chambers as the Jedi seemed to ponder on the ongoing discussion. From his bond with Anakin, Obi-Wan was having a hard time making out exactly what the boy was feeling, but it was agitated. Anakin’s brows were pinched and his expression was taught, eyes glancing between the various Masters, before he threw a look at Satine, then at Obi-Wan. 

His gaze didn’t linger, and instead he turned back to face the Grand Master, urgency thrumming along their bond.

“I thought Jedi were supposed to be compassionate,” he rushed out, eyes swinging between the various masters in front of him and Obi-Wan pursed his lips at the onslaught of anxiety pulsing around the boy.

“Compassionate yes,” Master Yoda stated, eyes widening a little to emphasize his words. “Attached, no.”

Anakin’s head jerked back minutely in surprise, face scrunching up intensely in confusion and Obi-Wan couldn’t help but berate himself mentally. 

Anakin shook his head slowly as he said a little contritely: “I don’t think I understand.”

Master Piell grunted. “Clearly, I didn’t underestimate your understanding of our Code, Knight Kenobi.” 

Obi-Wan looked down on instinct, feeling like a chastised Padawan. He didn’t need to be told, and yet it stung doubly so to hear it from a Jedi he otherwise respected, in the middle of the Council who had, despite their reservations, agreed to let him train Anakin. 

How badly had he explained their Jedi code and rules for Anakin to confuse attachment and compassion? That insidious voice in his mind didn’t waste any time hissing that perhaps Anakin would be better off without him altogether. 

“Be that as it may,” Adi Gallia chimed in eventually, making Anakin snap his eyes up to her. “It doesn’t change the fact that Knight Kenobi’s attachment is in direct violation of the Code. Whether said attachment is selfless or selfish doesn’t change anything.”

Obi-Wan ignored how her words hammered in the precarious situation he found himself in, noticing how Anakin’s eyes widened and his determination flickered.   
“Doesn’t it?” Eeth Koth mused, looking intently at Anakin, who shifted under the scrutiny. 

Master Piell scoffed. “Are you insinuating that we should allow attachments if they were selfless?” he asked, his tone not leaving any doubt as to how ludicrous he judged that thought. 

Master Koth levelled a steadfast gaze at him, unflappable. “Why not?” 

The simple answer took the Lannik Master completely by surprise and he sputtered, Depa Billaba taking that opportunity to speak. 

“As much as I enjoy partaking in rhetoric Master Koth, I must ask how you believe that answer appropriate considering the circumstances. How would we discern whether an attachment is selfless or not? This isn’t practical, the code exists for a reason,” she argued ever so calmly, each word inspired by logical considerations. 

Master Koth hummed pensively, as if Master Billaba hadn’t punctured a hole in his argument, before he turned his gaze back to Anakin. 

“Tell me, padawan Skywalker, what do you think compassion means?”

Anakin blinked at the non-sequitur, humming uncertainly for a second. “Isn’t it to help those who are suffering?” 

The Zabrak master nodded calmly. “Good. And what do you say of being attached?”

If possible, Anakin seemed even less sure of himself, his face turning a little red at being put on the spot. Obi-Wan could only imagine the courage it must have taken the boy to interrupt a Council meeting. 

No Jedi – in training or otherwise – in their right mind would dare interrupt a session in such a way, but in Anakin’s case, that compounded with the reminder of his first apparition in front of the Council. Obi-Wan hadn’t realized that it had scarred Anakin far more than the boy had let on back then, from the boy’s own account after a particularly tumultuous session with the mind healer. 

Anakin had explained that it had reminded him of a slave auction back on Tatooine, where prospecting masters came to admire the merchandise. 

Obi-Wan had felt sick, but whether it had been due to the reality it depicted or the matter-of-factly manner in which Anakin had retold the memory, he still wasn’t sure. 

Obi-Wan felt incredibly warmed at the effort his padawan was putting in this, taking so much on himself simply to help him, and yet it only made him sad. It wasn’t Anakin’s role to protect him, and short of interrupting the Council yet again to take Anakin away, he could only send what he hoped were soothing reassurances through their bond. 

If the way Anakin relaxed minutely was anything to go by, it hadn’t been lost. 

“Attached…” he repeated, clearly understanding that his previous understanding might not have been as accurate as he had thought it to be. He wouldn’t have been asked the question in such a manner, had it been the case. 

“Think of what it means to literally attach something,” Master Koth prompted, his voice losing a tad of the emotionless quality it held previously. 

Anakin looked sideways for barely a moment. “Like, attaching the hyperdrive power cable to the power buss?” he asked, his face scrunched up.

Obi-Wan had to bite his lip not to smile. Of course this was Anakin’s example. 

“Precisely,” Master Koth answered, amusement lacing his voice. “Do you want that cable to come loose?”

Anakin’s widened and stared at the Zabrak Master like he’d lost his mind. 

“Of course not!” he exclaimed, tone nearly insulted that such a thing could be insinuated. “It has to stay connected, or the ship would fall out of hyperspace randomly. And that’s the best case scenario.”

Obi-Wan wasn’t the only one faintly amused by the boy’s vehemence, and the atmosphere in the room was somewhat less tense than it was mere moments ago. 

Master Koth had a satisfied expression on his face that somehow still managed to remain neutral and Obi-Wan could only admire his composure. 

“How do you think that would translate to relationships?” That made Anakin pause, previous exuberance melting like snow under the sun. “If being attached means it absolutely has to stay fixed? Does it sound like what you described earlier?”

Anakin closed his mouth, expression pensive and a bit contrite and he shook his head. 

“Attachment means not wanting to separate from someone or something Padawan. It is selfish in that it focuses on what _you_ want rather than what is best for the person recipient of such love,” Master Koon chimed in. 

“Oh,” Anakin breathe out, before his face cleared and he turned to send a look at Obi-Wan. “ _That_ ’s what you were trying to tell me!” 

Even if he wasn’t looking at him, Obi-Wan new Master Yoda itched from interrupting with his favorite maxim, but he didn’t, and Obi-Wan stayed focused on Anakin. He nodded, unable to really prevent himself from swallowing at the voice in his head taunting him with his inadequacy. 

“But then,” Anakin said, turning back forward, and glancing between Master Koth and Koon. “Since Jedi are to be compassionate, it still means we want the best for them, for them to be happy, right? What I said earlier just means we’re compassionate?”

Obi-Wan wasn’t sure he liked the excited edge his voice was regaining and if the veiled look he noticed in some Masters’ eyes, they too, were growing wary of what Anakin seemed to have in mind. 

It was Master Koon who answered, and no later had he finished doing so, that the boy was speaking again, confirming Obi-Wan’s worry, and making him sigh. 

“That means we essentially have to love everyone, right?” 

Anakin’s argumentation might have been rerouted, but it hadn’t lost its spark. It didn’t make Obi-Wan feel better, and if anything it was worse. Anakin was so earnest that the upcoming disappointment was sure to be a blunt blow to his spirit. 

“It means we cannot love a few above others Padawan,” Master Mundi said promptly, fixing Anakin with a meaningful look. “It means we dedicate ourselves to help others in need, to show compassion to everyone regardless of our own personal feelings on the matter, or any considerations other than alleviating suffering.”

Anakin didn’t move for a moment, eyes riveted to the Cerean Master like he couldn’t really see him. Then he blinked and the spell broke. His expression shifted, and he looked crestfallen, denial still fighting. 

“But… I don’t understand. Can’t we do both? Show compassion to everyone, yet love a few more than others?” he asked in a small voice, looking between the different masters. 

The Jedi maters shifted, sending each other uncomfortable glances. Younglings raised in the crèche obviously asked these questions too, doubt was part of growing up and forging one’s identity and future beliefs, but Obi-Wan didn’t think the councilors, or any Jedi for that matter, had ever had to be confronted to such a reaction to being given that answer. 

Most younglings took their time to ponder on what it meant, expressed their doubts and concerns over why they were doing things this way, but everyone around them lived that way. They understood it as their Jedi paths, and didn’t have personal experience in living in any other way like Anakin did. Missions were as far as they could go, really, and even when it did show them a different perspective, things they might desire in their life, like it had been the case for Obi-Wan on Mandalore and undoubtedly for countless other Jedi, they had been raised with the idea that selflessness was the sole fulfilling way forward. 

And perhaps, if Obi-Wan hadn’t seen Satine again so soon, when the wounds were still rather fresh; if Korkie hadn’t been in the equation… Perhaps the choice wouldn’t have been so daunting and he had the suspicion the decision to stay with the Jedi Order might have been a natural one. If Satine hadn’t asked this time, Obi-Wan wouldn’t have considered it. He would have hoped perhaps, and longed for it, but he wouldn’t have asked her himself, despite knowing it was what had led them to their current situation the last time. 

Had she told him she didn’t want to see him ever again, Obi-Wan would have heeded her word. Had she required out of him he didn’t see Korkie anymore, Obi-Wan would have complied. It likely would have destroyed him, but he would have done it. 

But then she’d asked. And he felt like he was being pulled in two different directions. 

Master Piell grunted, barely making an effort to sound diplomatic rather than his usual bellicose self. 

“And what would you do if it came to choose between those you love most and the other souls you are meant to dedicate your life to?”

Obi-Wan winced at the sudden spike of anguish he felt from Anakin, undoubtedly imagining such a situation. He tried to send the same pattern of reassurances as earlier, but it seemed Anakin was entirely oblivious to it this time. 

“That is simply the reality of things, Padawan Skywalker,” Master Piell plowed on. “Jedi have to make choices for the good of everyone, and loving some above everyone else would make you lose focus in the eventuality in which they were in danger when you had to make an important decision. Such love is dangerous.”

Anakin’s gaze dropped to the floor, the room falling silent but for the breathings of all present in the room. Obi-Wan was growing increasingly concerned over Anakin’s mounting distress, and his heart ached for him. This was what it meant to be a Jedi, he would have to learn at one point or another. The fact that it had to be in this manner though, and despite all his efforts to appeal to the Council on _his_ behalf, had the effect of a cold shower. 

His lips were downturned when he spoke next. 

“Please don’t make Obi-Wan and Satine separate,” he pleaded and Obi-Wan had the feeling he’d just fallen from a cliff when he saw tears form in his blue eyes.

“ _Knight_ Kenobi is supposed to be a Jedi,” Master Piell scoffed, distracting Obi-Wan from Anakin’s pleading eyes and making him narrow his own at the jab. “We shouldn’t have to separate him from anyone.”

Anakin bit his lip, before he took a deep breath and plowed on despite the sharp rebuke.

“My mum always told me that there was enough hate in the galaxy without shunning out love on top of it. That love was the only thing strong enough to light up the dark and that we shouldn’t forget to cherish it while we had it and always remember it once it’s gone,” he declared passionately although his voice wavered a little, valiantly attempting to hold Master Piell’s gaze. 

Master Piell’s gaze hardened minutely. 

“And what would you do, if you had to choose between Obi-Wan and your mother?”

Anakin blanched instantly, his distress making Obi-Wan dizzy, yet not distracted enough not to realize _what in the bloody galaxy_ the councilor had asked a nine year old boy. 

“Even,” Master Koon said warningly, uncharacteristically switching to the councilor’s given name, and Obi-Wan could feel the disapproval for the Lannik Master’s strategy echo in the Force from other members of the council; even Master Windu sent him a dark look. 

Anakin was pale as a sheet, face scrunched up as if he was about to cry and his lower lip was trembling. 

“I’m sorry, what is this?” Satine jerked them all out of the standstill and Obi-Wan immediately knew her tone spoke danger. Her expression was hard and unyielding as she fixed a cold stare onto Even Piell. Korkie was shifting in her arms and it was abundantly clear that he got affected by yet another sudden spike of tension. 

“I believed this session was meant to discuss Master Kenobi’s infraction of your Code and my guilt in said infraction,” she nearly spat, showing everyone just what she thought of said code. “Grilling a child with such a question an adult couldn’t answer is nothing but cruel.”

Master Piell pursed his lips. “That is the reality of things–”

Satine scoffed a humorless sound that chilled Obi-Wan and he would bet his lightsaber no one would think of interrupting her. 

“Ah, the reality of things, certainly. Let me ask you, Master Jedi, you have trained padawans before have you not?” She didn’t allow him to answer, fully aware thanks to Obi-Wan that no Jedi could become a master unless they had trained at least one padawan to knighthood. “If you had to decide between your padawan and someone else’s padawan, who would you choose to save? Or better yet, if you could only save one of your padawans?”

Her voice was as poignant as a hammer, as sharp as a knife and Obi-Wan could only stare at her, feeling the shock pulsing around the room. After staying silent and docile throughout the session, no one had expected hearing Satine rebuke a Jedi Master three times her age in such a manner, with poise far beyond her years.

“You are trained from birth to be detached, but do you seriously believe you could convince me that all Jedi are able to maintain a level of selflessness and detachment such as the one you speak of? Do you not base the core of your teachings, pass down your know-how for missions through apprenticeship bonds? Don’t you think this could foster even the modicum form of attachment between a master and a padawan? And to answer your earlier inquiry Master,” she turned to Master Billaba who hid her surprise at being addressed remarkably well. “Forbiding relationships altogether because you are all afraid of what could happen if one formed _unhealthy_ attachment, is like Anakin said. Just as bad as the inherent fear of losing someone we care about, as in both cases it means fear controls your actions.”

Silence rang in the room, as shock whirled inside like the blast of a rhydonium explosion. It didn’t last long, it seemed Satine was not done. 

“Attachments are a part of any sentient’s life, and you will not find a single child in your care not forming such attachment to their primary caretaker.”

“We are trained to _let go_ ,” Master Gallia started, only for Satine to whirl around to face her, every bit of the stubborn duchess she was starting to be known for. 

“You believe we do not? How do you think us, poor non-Force sensitive, non-Jedi, deal with loss? With family members leaving us? With children growing up?” she hammered each accusation precisely, her tone dripping wryness as she continued. “And gods forbid, with death? We learn to let go because it is the only way forward. How does a nine-year-old have more emotional intelligence than all the pillars of wisdom of the Jedi Order combined?”

Obi-Wan’s mouth fell open at the accusation. She was certainly not mincing her words. 

“Being emotionally mature is learnt, and if every one of your younglings is taught that rejecting all forms of emotional bonds with others for fear of being prone to feelings is safer, it is no wonder many fail,” she continued, readjusting Korkie on her hip, her gaze travelling from one councilor to the next and fixing each with an unyielding glare.

Obi-Wan was as consternated as he was awed by her boldness, although if history served, he ought not to be surprised by her ability to talk circles around anyone. Perhaps he had clung to the Council’s perceived sanctity too much and believed its members untouchable, but apparently they were no match for a royally pissed off Satine Kryze. 

It shouldn’t have delighted Obi-Wan as much as it did. 

Anakin was staring up at her in utter bafflement, eyes wide and jaw slack, earlier distress vanished in total blankness as if he couldn’t believe that anyone would take his defense. Considering his past, Obi-Wan thought perhaps it wasn’t that far off, and he sobered minutely, trying to send approval through their bond. He wasn’t sure Anakin truly realized what he was doing because even if he seemed to relax, he didn’t otherwise acknowledge the communication. Well no matter, as long as he felt better. 

Obi-Wan couldn’t say as much about the Council. They were in various states of shock and bewilderment, some openly gaping at the young Duchess, while a few recovered quickly, although they weren’t better able to fully hide their opinion on the little lecture they’d just received.

Despite such a reaction being quite unbecoming of a Jedi, Obi-Wan couldn’t help but feel vindicated at seeing Master Piell’s vacant eyes. No matter how grand a Jedi he was, his question to Anakin was absolutely uncalled for, especially in the manner in which he had posed them; and considering they’d been discussing compassion, he’d hurt his argument more than the alternative. 

He detected faint approval from Master Plo Koon, and pensive expressions on the faces of several councilors, including Master Yaddle, Fisto, Mundi and even Billaba. Obi-Wan had to do a double take when his gaze landed on Master Yoda who, for some reason looked rather pleased by the unfolding of events. 

Such a calculated, yet serene, gleam in his eyes, and compounded with all the little quirks he’d noticed so far, made the nagging suspicion that the old Jedi had something in mind, return tenfold. 

“Does anyone want to comment on this?” Master Windu took the floor seamlessly, as if Satine hadn’t obliterated the Oder’s moral justification for banning attachment.   
Obi-Wan sent him a confused glance that the Korun master met steadfastly, revealing nothing of what he thought, but Obi-Wan had the distinct impression that he was far too calm considering the circumstances. 

“With all due respect Duchess,” Master Gallia took the opportunity to speak, still looking rather nonplussed at the earlier interruption. “I do not think you appreciate the importance of our Code enough. The Force is powerful and without a strict moral conduct on our part, the Galaxy would be ran havoc by inconsiderate Force wielder at best, and dark sider zealots at worse.”

Satine was about to open her mouth to counter her argument but it seemed the Tholothian master was determined to give her a taste of her own medicine, for she continued before Satine could. 

“As much as I disagree with the method,” she eyed Master Piell as she said this. “I have to agree with the gist of what was said. Our history is as bloody as any other and many wars have been fought in the past. How many Jedi have fallen prey to the Dark Side as a result of their attachments in times of stress? Romantic relationships land themselves particularly well to emotionally-driven thinking and it would not do for a Jedi to make decisions on which depends the fate of many sentients in such a state.”

Satine lifted an eyebrow. 

“My apologies, I had not realized that your Republic was doing so poorly with emotionally involved Senators leading the discussions on all its proceedings,” she dryly stated, her voice dripping sarcasm and if the situation hadn’t been so tense, Obi-Wan might have laughed at Master Gallia’s expression. 

“Perhaps we ought to calm down,” Master Windu intervened as the Tholothian opened her mouth, sending a glare in both her and Satine’s direction, who didn’t pipe a word but kept her chin up. 

“Your opinion is duly noted Duchess,” he continued with neutral deference, before he added with a challenging gaze sweeping the room: “Let us go back to our main concern of the day, shall we?”

“Keep in mind what has been said, we should,” Master Yoda piped in and this was too much. 

Obi-Wan frowned openly at the Grand Master who was clearly playing a different game. 

It was Master Koth who took the floor once more, ever the picture of composure. 

“As Padawan Skywalker has rightly reminded us, the Code has been reinterpreted before,” he asserted, ignoring the clear but subdued movements of the Force at his words. “We still learn the older version to focus our meditation as younglings, and I do not believe to be making a mistake in stating everyone here remembers it.”

“Emotions, yet peace,” Anakin blurted out, before he smacked his hand over his mouth, his eye wide at butting in out of turn. 

Obi-Wan had to bite his lips not to smile, exchanging an amused glance with Satine without thinking. 

“Quite right, Skywalker,” Master Koth replied with an approving nod. “Our emotions are not the issue; letting them decide on our whole behavior and dictate our decisions, is; relationships in and of themselves are not the problem either – as the Duchess pointed out, we do accept privileged bonds between a Master and their apprentice which we learn to let go when the time is right.”

His words rung true with every master present in the room, and no one had anything to say against them, although many expressions soured at his next words.  
“I do believe this situation lends itself perfectly as catalyst for us to rethink our ways,” he concluded confidently. 

“Agree, I do.”

Obi-Wan’s heart lurched. The sun could have exploded, he might not have noticed. Was he hearing this right? He felt Satine’s surprise next to him, fragile hope flaring up and making Obi-Wan dizzy. 

Was it solely a product of Obi-Wan wishful thinking, or the old Jedi had absolutely no intention of making him choose?

“Master Yoda!” Master Piell exclaimed, scandalized. He wasn’t the only one.

“No such thing as accident there is,” the old Jedi cut off any protests ready to spurt forth. “The will of the Force, only there is. Not an accident, I believe Young Korkie is. Not an accident, his disease was. The will of the Force it was.”

Obi-Wan let out a shuddery breath at that. He couldn’t believe his ears. Of all people, Obi-Wan wouldn’t have believed Master Yoda, such an adamant proponent of the Code, and of the dangers of the Dark side, to push forward such a dramatic divergence from their code of conduct. 

From the corner of his eye, he noted Satine tightening her embrace minutely around their son, no doubt reacting to the insinuation that such suffering was entirely engineered for the Jedi Order to initiate changes, and he suspected she wasn’t particularly pleased by that perspective. 

He couldn’t say it was particularly comforting to think that their son had to suffer so much for months for the sake of the Order, but he’d lived his entirely life by the will of the Force and admitting to such ‘meddling’ was not overtly hard to come to terms with. 

The Force did not have an agenda, or a point per se. It just was; it flowed in and with everything living, and what they called ‘will’ was just that: an unstoppable flow that followed life and balance. An equilibrium, of sorts. It was right or it wasn’t. 

Listening to the Force was as much a guessing game for them as it was for anyone else, and no one could be sure of what it was saying, not even the Jedi. Meditation helped them focusing it, and become better attuned with its whispers but it was as close as they could get. 

“The will of the Force, we shall follow, hum?” The Grand Master added with a mysterious expression, levelling a steadfast gaze with everyone. 

“What are you saying, Master Yoda?” Adi Gallia said, the aftermath of her shock still painted on her face. 

The small Jedi was peering serenely at their little assembly, exuding such a calm countenance that one might have thought they had been discussing the weather rather than changing the foundations of their contemporary Jedi Order. 

“Meditate on this, I have. Back the Siths are; clouded the future is.”

“Master Yoda,” Master Tiin chimed in. “Aren’t those precisely the reasons why we should stick to the Jedi Code? If the Siths are back, they are already a threat to the galaxy, we shouldn’t be scattering our attention. I fear changing our ways now is a recipe for disaster.”

“Agree I do, with the duchess. Vigilant we must be; be paralyzed by our fear, we must not,” Master Yoda replied steadfastly and Obi-Wan couldn’t help but narrow his eyes, mouth partly opened. 

This change of mind was far too drastic to have been the matter of the last few days, even pushing it to Satine’s arrival. Something momentous had to have happened for the Grand Master to revise his position to this extent. 

He had to consciously remind himself to not cling too hard on the flickers of hope slowly returning to his chest. The hope that, perhaps, he wouldn’t have to choose. 

Satine _was_ right in that, becoming a Jedi had been his dream. It still was such a core part of who he was as a person that he was hard pressed to imagine what his life would look like without it. His entire life had been geared towards embodying the Jedi ideals, and he had built himself accordingly. Perhaps the timing was not the most appropriate, but he couldn’t help but think back on what Satine had told him – that leaving the Jedi Order at her request would have made him resent her. 

He couldn’t bring himself not to throw a surreptitious glance at her at the thought. She wasn’t looking at him, her entire focus was directed towards the green Jedi deep in thought, her brows tightened in expectancy of…whatever would be said next. Her previous righteous anger was still subtly etched into her features, but her expression was, for all intents and purposes, calm. Not hopeful, not distressed. A neutral focus that told Obi-Wan she would take whatever came, whenever it did, with the same resolution and poise that had struck him the first time he’d met her, but wouldn’t hesitate to speak her mind if she didn’t like it. One of her arm held Korkie securely against her, the little boy finally recovered from the previous excitement now that the mood in the room had subdued back to a low humming, as all councilors waited for Master Yoda to speak his mind. She still rested one hand on Anakin’s shoulders, and Obi-Wan sensed easily how the contact grounded his padawan in the Force. Like Korkie, he seemed placated by the appeasement of the Force around the councilors. 

The tableau was a peculiar one, and yet it didn’t jar Obi-Wan as much as it would have merely a few weeks ago. As much as he tried to deeply consider her assessment of his leaving the Order would have led to three years ago, Obi-Wan couldn’t see it. The thought of leaving his life as a Jedi filled him with an odd melancholy, a wistful ache that reminded him of the good things he would be leaving behind, not in the least the companionship he had found in his former clanmates as a youngling or the opportunity to do some good throughout the galaxy. 

It remained simply that though – a wistful sentiment of a time turned into memory. Obi-Wan couldn’t imagine such a benign feeling leading to something as corrosive as resentment. Not when the tradeoff led him to have a life with her and Korkie. 

Obi-Wan didn’t want to stop being a Jedi, but he would have for their sake, if Anakin had not been in the picture. Obi-Wan let out a, oh so subtle exhale, already picturing his padawan’s face if he found out the only reason for his staying was him. 

From his efforts, Obi-Wan understood clearly that Anakin imagined a possible future in which Obi-Wan wouldn’t need to choose either. The ache he had felt for his padawan as he had to withstand every rebuke from Master Piell, and be confronted by the seemingly ideological impossibility he was nonetheless hoping for, seemed appeased – at a low simmer – alongside his, as of late, perpetual anxiety, in the pit of his stomach rather than the scorching blaze coursing his veins of earlier. 

The conversation had progressed through hoops he hadn’t envisioned, on all accounts, and Master Yoda had opened up a possibility he had not dared formulating even in the privacy of his own mind up until now. 

“Too clouded by fear, we have become; complacent we are, dangerous that is,” Master Yoda continued, closing his eyes. Everyone could sense how the Force was swirling lazily around him, lending to his words, the weight needed for everyone to comprehend how utterly serious he was being. “A choice we have – to continue as we have, or explore this new possibility. The will of the Force, I believe this choice is. Discuss this, we should.”

Obi-Wan let out a breath at that, before his senses were assaulted by Anakin’s explosive emotions through their bond and he winced. It seemed his padawan had finally caught on with exactly what this entire conversation actually meant and Obi-Wan had to repress a smile at seeing how tremendously difficult it was for Anakin, in his excitement, to keep his mouth shut instead of blurting the first thing flashing through his mind.

“We do not have to start a drastic change of the entire order now,” Master Windu stated, to Obi-Wan shock. 

The Korun master had been particularly placid throughout the entire meeting, and his stance on the matter kept clashing with Obi-Wan’s preconceived idea of who he knew the Jedi to be and what he stood for. He was a firm believer in the Code, and Obi-Wan had never seen him stepped out of line of its directives. 

That he was going along with this only proved that he was not discovering Master Yoda’s newfound epiphany like the rest of the councilors were, and, dare he think it, the green Jedi may have managed to convince him to consider his views. 

“I believe that is a sound idea,” Master Koon intervened in turn, proving yet again his rather open-minded opinions. “The Force does seem to prompts us in a new direction, I can feel no jarring forewarning that would caution us otherwise.”

That seemed to spark another round of careful thinking and Obi-Wan couldn’t help but be surprised at realizing that the Kel Dor was in the right.

As he focused on the Force, there was nothing but the gentle flow to which he’d grown accustomed to, so far from the disturbed torrent it had been like the days prior to Satine’s arrival when he had felt constantly on edge, drawn thin by the repetitive nightmares. 

Unbidden, all the instances they had been together in the last two weeks, resurfaced at the forefront of his mind. The knowing smiles and the longing gazes he shared with Satine; the moments spent speaking of Korkie, watching him babble as the treatment allowed him to regain his usual energy; training with Anakin as per usual, and the unusual treks to the halls of healing discussing Korkie’s latest antics. 

Despite how Obi-Wan had fought against the serene peace engulfing him each time he allowed himself to be swept in those moments, as much as he’d tried to retreat from them, with the awkward distancing and uncomfortable stammering, never once had it felt _wrong_. He had put it on account of his failure as a Jedi, and his inability to stick to the principles he had sworn an oath to uphold – these feelings were unbecoming of a proper Jedi after all, weren’t they? 

And yet. 

It had felt _right_ in every sense of the word. Ensuring his duty as a Jedi and his obligations towards Anakin, all the while thinking of Korkie’s well-being and spending time with Satine. 

Coming to the present as he felt Anakin’s spurting joyous hope through their bond, a glance around the room told him he wasn’t the only one coming down to that realization, even if the other councilors obviously couldn’t base their slow building cognizance on the same facts as he was.

Depa Billaba was deep in thought, her default reaction to consider each new fact as they came for what they were, kicking into gear; Adi Gallia still seemed dubious but she too, seemed to be thinking of the merits of that new propositions. Such looks were sported by the rest of the councilors in varying shades of acceptance, from the tranquil countenance of one fully convinced of Master Koth to the grudgingly skeptical figure of Master Piell. 

“Perhaps an experiment,” Master Tiin said eventually, eyes trained to the floor as he seemed to only come out of his consideration, before he looked up to Obi-Wan who met his gaze. “I do not feel any disturbance in the Force, and perhaps that it is you, Kenobi, in this situation, is just as well.”

Obi-Wan frowned minutely for barely an instant at that, producing a knowing smile on the Iktotchi’s face. 

“You are an exemplary Jedi for one so young, Kenobi, perhaps it was time you realized it.”

Obi-Wan couldn’t think of a better counter-argument than precisely being the one finding himself in such a situation, but he kept his mouth shut, attempting and failing utterly at producing a smile more genuine than a pained grimace. 

“And what, pray tell, would this experiment look like?” Master Piell intervened, tone clearly indicating just what he thought of Master Tiin’s last statement. 

“We allow Kenobi to pursue a relationship with the Duchess and his son, while remaining a Jedi,” Master Tiin said thoughtfully, ignoring the wry edge to the small Jedi’s tone. 

Obi-Wan’s eyes grew wide at the implication of Master Tiin’s words regarding his and Satine’s relationship, complete breach of their current code aside, and he glanced around the different masters trying to gauge their reactions. 

Master Windu snorted, breaking the downward spiral of embarrassment. 

“Please; did you seriously think that we might be oblivious to the nature of your… _selfless_ attachment,” he drawled, sparing a quick glance to Anakin with what resembled a smirk, “towards the Duchess, even now?” 

His cheeks inflamed up to the tip of his ears. 

“You’d have to come up with a rather state of the art argument if you hoped to convince any of us, and I dare say it wouldn’t be a meager feat, even for you.”

Obi-Wan let out a grunt, hunching his shoulders. He sensed amusement through the training bond and he glared at his shameless padawan who seemed positively smug. Satine was biting her lower lip to prevent herself from smiling and it was all Obi-Wan could do to try and wrap his mind around the fact that they were even having this discussion. What astounded him perhaps even more, was how he could even be surprised that his love for Satine was as obvious as it apparently was. 

“I do think this mindset to be problematic – it essentially amounts to rewarding a Knight for an infraction,” Master Rancicis remarked, looking a little critical.

“Keeping our mind open, I believe this is,” Master Yaddle chimed in, observing the little group in the center of the room. “Not to let our faith in the Code become dogmatic, careful we should be.” 

Master Rancisis seemed to ponder those words, his snake-like tail coiling and uncoiling rhythmically. 

“Does anyone have anything to say for or against this proposition?” Master Windu asked eventually when no other comment came forth. Obi-Wan’s lungs seemed to be sponges filled with water – was he the only one who felt like he couldn’t breathe? The strength of his hope made him tremble and it was all he could do to avoid fisting his hand too tightly as he waited for the Council to further debate his situation. 

“I agree with letting this experiment play out,” Master Fisto intervened with a smile at Obi-Wan. 

“As am I,” Master Poof spoke for the first time since the start of the meeting. 

“You already know my opinion,” was Master Koth’s answer, his tone as unflappable as ever. 

Ki-Adi Mundi took in a breath before he said with an amused expression: “It would be rather hypocritical of me to advise against it.”

“You, Master Mundi, were legitimately allowed to have a family,” Master Piell countered. 

Master Mundi hummed. “Yes, I was. And perhaps I should not be the only one,” he added with a soft look on Korkie. 

“I am still rather skeptical over the merits of this experiment,” Master Gallia said earnestly. “But I agree to see it play out.” 

“As am I,” Master Billaba agreed soon after, looking thoughtfully at Anakin whose eyes were wide and bright as they swung from one master voicing their agreement to the next. He was practically buzzing with excitement, making Obi-Wan dizzy with how jarring it was against the rather feeble control he was trying to maintain over his own emotions. 

“Master Piell?” Master Windu asked when the small Jedi did not speak. His jaw was tightly set and his eyes were downcast, not acknowledging Master Windu’s call more than by a twitch of his ear. 

The room was as eerily silent as the vacuum of space as Master Piell stayed retreated behind his voiceless wall a little longer. At last he looked up, his expression a blank, but serious mask and his gaze piercing Obi-Wan as it was laid upon him. 

“I do not understand it.”

Obi-Wan blinked, before he frowned at the statement. Master Piell let out a breath at the inquisitive look. 

“Despite your abysmal disregard for protocol during the Melida/Daan debacle, you have indeed, become a fine Jedi.”

Obi-Wan couldn’t help but wince slightly at yet again another mention of that mission, and he ignored the shiver raising the hair on his arms. He wasn’t sure what to make of the praise after the vehement opposition he received from the Lannik master, and he opted to keep his attention on Master Piell, waiting to see what would come next. 

“I cannot understand why you would flaunt this away.”

Understanding dawned on him and Obi-Wan let out a breath. He swallowed as he tried to think of what to say in answer to the unspoken question. 

“I did not lie earlier,” he started, relieved his voice was steady. “We only ever acted on our feelings once. There was no promise and no future discussed. Satine Kryze was the Duchess of Mandalore and I was a Jedi Padawan, training to become a fully-fledged Jedi, end of story.”

He threw a glance to Korkie who lifted his head to look at him, his eyes questioning. It made Obi-Wan’s heart warm at the sight and he had to look away before he resumed. 

“I did not know about Korkie when I returned to the Order three years ago; but I do now. I recognize that this situation is unorthodox, that my attachment, for lack of a better word, to both Satine and my son is in direct violation of our Code; that by all accounts, being a Jedi would dictate me to distance myself from both of them and vow no contact with either of them as long as I remained a Jedi. Had Duchess Kyrze asked that of me” – he heard the soft gasp Satine let out at that – “I would have done so. Had she asked of me to let her and Korkie go, I would have agreed. But she did not; not this time. And as much as I respect and value our Code, as much as I hold my responsibilities towards the Order in the highest esteem, I do believe to have a responsibility towards both the Duchess and our son.”

He took a deep breath before stating his next words. 

“More than that, I love them both,” he whispered, his ears ringing at confessing such a thing in the middle of the Council chambers, no matter that it seemed to be more of an open secret than anything else. It felt as though an immense boulder had been lifted off his shoulders and Obi-Wan breathed, fully giving in to the hope burning in his chest. 

If Master Piell was even remotely affected by his statements, it didn’t show on his face. He, however, leaned forward with that same scrutinizing look of earlier, as if Obi-Wan was a curious alien plant to be dissected. 

“Then why are you still here? Why have you not left the Jedi order?”

Everyone seemed intently focused on their exchange, but Obi-Wan only cared about one being. He should have expected that question, and there was no way around avoiding mentioning Anakin’s place in his current predicament as he answered it. He took in a deep breath. 

“Anakin is my padawan,” he stated clearly, willing far more confidence in his voice than he was feeling. The steady stream of emotions coming from Anakin blanked for barely a second as the boy jolted at the mention of his name, before his eyes widened dramatically. “As his master, I have a responsibility towards him as well. I promised to my late master that I would train him; I promised myself that I would train him; and more importantly, I promised _him_ that I would train him.”   
He allowed himself a pause, readying himself for what he would say next. Never before had it appeared so clearly in his mind than it did now, and, emboldened by the relative open-mindedness of the Councilors at this moment, he did not hesitate long. 

“In this instance, I do believe that my responsibility towards individuals outweigh my responsibility towards the Jedi Code.”

Quiet murmurs in the Force at that, but nothing above it. Steeling himself, he plowed forward. 

“I do not pretend that my vows as a Jedi are unimportant. They guide my actions and echo my will to do good in the galaxy in the diplomatic capacity of peacekeeper. I have attempted to abide by the Code my entire life, and I do see its relevance and its importance, in many ways. I am not foreign to the risk posed by unchecked and unhealthy attachments, or the temptation to the Dark Side; and this is precisely why I do not believe that attempting to eliminate such risks by forbidding all forms of relationships and demonizing emotions is the best way forward. 

“The Code as it is interpreted today, seems to be doing exactly that. Meant as precepts to guide our spiritual adherence to the Force and to use our abilities for the people of the galaxy, we have turned it into an executioner for our failure to uphold these principles and an inherently political tool that dictates our actions within the Republic’s mandate more than precisely, our spiritual adherence to the Force. 

“It is that Code that dictates that my love for my child and the mother of my child is dangerous. It is that Code that commands me not to be fond of, and to love, my apprentice, a child under my care and responsibility. It is that Code that condemns compassionate actions out of bounds with our political mandate, just as it did Qui-Gon for acting out of our mandate and freeing Anakin on Tatooine. 

“Master Piell, I hold my responsibilities as a Jedi and to this Order in the highest esteem. But I am prone to believe that they are not the only responsibilities I am liable to and I wish, with the Council’s blessing, to be allowed to uphold them all.” 

Obi-Wan was nearly panting by the time he stopped speaking, his eyes riveted to the Lannik master and feeling the eyes of everyone present yet again trained on him. Once he’d started speaking, there was no stopping himself. His words had passed his lips before he could think of closing his mouth, and only now that he had stopped talking did he realize exactly what he’d said. It was akin to walking out of forest bathed in a thick fog, when finally the sun breached the trees. 

Obi-Wan’s eyelids fluttered briefly and he schooled his expression to reflect his determination, void of doubts. 

Master Piell’s gaze did not relent for several long moments as he observed him and it was all Obi-Wan could do to stay as stoically still as he could under the scrutiny. Silence stretched until, at last, the Lannik master let out a deep sigh, closing his eyes. 

“Very well,” he relented, none of the previous belligerent notes coloring his tone. “I agree to this experiment as well.”

Obi-Wan didn’t move. He could only stare, the words echoing in his mind, ringing in his ears and yet, not making any sense. Distantly, he heard Satine let out a breath and sensed Anakin’s exhilaration through the bond. 

And then it hit him like a tidal wave and he gasped a breath, the meaning of such inconspicuous words finally registering in his haze-addled mind and he sagged in on himself. He felt light-headed with the strength of his relief, his heart all but fled from his chest. 

He had been prepared to be faced with perhaps the most difficult choice he had ever had to make, and now it seemed that it had never been in the plans of the Grand Master at all in the first place. 

Obi-Wan didn’t have the energy to wonder why they hadn’t started with this rather than having to go through such painful discussions if this outcome had already been the preferred one in the mind of the old Jedi. He would take what he was given, in this instance. 

He registered the Councilors discussing the details of whatever that experiment would entail, but instead of tuning in to hear what they were saying, Obi-Wan turned towards Satine. Her eyes were bright and the smile she gave him reflected his own feelings as clearly as a mirror.

It was as soft as it was stunned and Obi-Wan drank in the sight, with the knowledge that he was allowed to do so. Korkie was fussy again, no doubt a result of their emotions going haywire, and this time, there was no doubt rendering his movements tentative as Obi-Wan reached out to hold the boy, Satine releasing him right away. 

His throat was too tight for him to be able to say a single word, and the way Korkie immediately snuggled up to him as soon as Obi-Wan held him didn’t make it better. He closed his eyes when he felt them prickle, and cupped the back of his son’s head, willfully ignoring the presence of the Council. 

As he opened them, his gaze fell on Anakin and he let out a soft chuckle. His padawan’s face was split in two by a wide, beaming smile, and his blue eyes, sparkling in joy, were misted. He reached out to cup Anakin’s shoulder, giving it a little squeeze that made his padawan preen. 

He swallowed hard around the emotions lodged in his throat as he focused on the weight of Korkie in his arms, the deep affection and excitement through their bond from Anakin, and the soft smile from Satine. 

He didn’t have to choose. 

If the last three years were the price for this particular moment, Obi-Wan couldn’t bring himself to regret them. As painful as it was, still, to try and imagine everything he had missed and everything Satine had had to endure by herself, how could he ever feel otherwise, that it had been worth the wait if in exchange, he was given the right to love her openly, to worry for their son, all the while continue on as a Jedi Knight of the Republic and keep training Anakin? 

That wound would still need time mending, but Obi-Wan found it was greatly soothed by the knowledge that it had not been in vain. 

“Knight Kenobi.”

Obi-Wan startled out of his musings at Master Windu’s deep voice. 

“You and your padawan are granted a leave of a month starting now,” he stated with a meaningful look that made Obi-Wan’ cheeks heat up. Was this really happening? 

Before he could ponder longer on that particularly embarrassing line of thought, Master Yoda spoke. 

“Continue to listen to the will of the Force we all shall. Padawan Skywalker?” he called out, making the boy jumped a little and turned to face the Grand Master.   
“Yes Master Yoda?”

“Great wisdom and discernment you have shown today. A lesson for us all, it is,” he declared, gaze travelling to everyone in the room, until it rested on Anakin once more. “Our hopes, may our choices always reflect; not our fears.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooooo! What did you think? :D 
> 
> This was tremendously hard to write! I went into walls trying to make sense of how the Jedi understood the reasoning behind banning attachment and trying to come up with a realistic way around it...  
> I use the word "attachment" a lot - I mean it it both as the literal word and the unhealthy, selfish one the Jedi seem to have in mind; I hope it is clear which one I mean in context... My apologies if not! 
> 
> On another note, Yoda's last words are directly inspired by Nelson Mandela's wisdom in his quote - "May your choices reflect your hopes, not your fears." I felt it was wholeheartedly appropriate for the fic, and for myself, and perhaps you too! 
> 
> In any case, there you have it! :D Only the epilogue's left!   
> Thank you for reading!!


	6. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here's the epilogue!!
> 
> Enjoy!! :D

Satine got off the ramp of the shuttle, each hand clasped by smaller ones. She tightened her hold on the smaller one of the two when she felt the little girl trying to pull away in an attempt to get off the vessel faster. She was not about to let a five year old loose on the busy platform of inter-galactic travels, even if they had landed in the more secluded area reserved for official planetary representatives. 

Be that as it may, she could easily understand her daughter’s excitement. Her stomach was somersaulting and a smile bloomed on her face as soon as he came into view. Their eyes found each other in the very next moment, just like they always did after any stretch of time spent apart. 

Obi-Wan answered her with that quirky smile of his, half hidden behind the beard he had been sporting for a few years now, his eyes twinkling. He was standing a few meters away from the ramp, both hands clasped behind his back as he watched them come down. 

Next to her, Korkie was desperately trying to maintain decorum but she felt his hand tighten a little and his pace hasten. She couldn’t help but throw an amused glance at her eight year old son, who stood ramrod straight and staring dead ahead. He eventually noticed her amused glance, sending an embarrassed look at her from the corner of his eyes, pink dusting his cheeks. 

Before she could open her mouth to tell him he should relax, her daughter jerked her forward. 

“Papa!” 

Satine barely winced despite the sudden movement, far too used to such an antic to be surprised. 

“Aaliyah, don’t pull on my arm like that, ad’ika.”

Aaliyah whined but stopped pulling, turning a pouting expression to her mother. 

“But Mama, Papa’s here!”

She didn’t have to look up to know Obi-Wan was chuckling from where he stood, obviously having bared witness to their daughter’s displeasure. She gave a meaningful look at the five year old, whose face immediately smoothed from the earlier petulance. 

Satine could see how much she wished to go see her father though, it was written all over her features and in the childish longing in her eyes.

“Please Mama,” she asked, half jumping in place. 

“I could go with her,” Kokie suggested with pretense nonchalance that made Satine roll her eyes fondly. As if he wasn’t as eager as his sister was.

She released both their hands, sighing dramatically. “Alright, if you must!”

Whoops of joy echoed from both children as they launched themselves down the last of the ramp and across the platform and right into their father’s arms. 

Obi-Wan had stooped low to greet them, and peals of laughter rung around the little group as he gathered the children in his arms. 

“Oh I’ve missed you,” he was saying as he kissed each child on the cheek, to both their greatest delight. 

Satine thanked one of her attendant as they informed her they would go ahead and bring their belongings to the Senatorial apartment she was being lent for the duration of their stay on Coruscant, before joining her family. 

Obi-Wan immediately glanced up, no doubt sensing her arrival before he actually saw it, and a softer smile curled his lips up, making her stomach somersault all over again like a teenager in love. 

She had thought this particular reaction would subside with time, but it seemed it only ever strengthened with every year that passed. 

Obi-Wan set down Aaliyah to the floor and unwound his arm from Korkie’s shoulder. 

“Hello, love,” he whispered, reaching up one hand to cup her cheek. He leant down to give her a kiss, soft and sweet, like a breeze on a spring morning. They both dutifully ignored the disgusted grunts rising from Korkie and Aaliyah, and Satine kept her eyes closed, a smile still on her lips, as he set his forehead against hers, simply relishing in each other’s presence. 

“I’ve missed you too,” he added as they broke apart, impish gleam in his eyes that made her narrow hers playfully. 

“Did you?” 

“Oh yes, I dare say I missed you perhaps too much,” he said conspirationally. “I do believe Anakin’s exact words, after he managed to land a strike for the third time during saber practice today, were ‘lovesick disaster of a master’.” 

Satine laughed at that, imagining Anakin’s face as he delivered the line. She leant forward to kiss him again, lingering longer this time. 

“I’ve missed you too, Cyar’ika,” she breathed out, loving how he smiled at the Mando’a endearment. He grabbed her hand, the golden bands clicking together, making her smile wider in turn. 

They had not been apart particularly long this time, barely a few weeks during which Obi-Wan and Anakin had been on a mission to the outer rim, before they had to come back to Coruscant for their mandatory stay at the temple. 

She squeezed his hand, relishing of the feel of his palm against hers. 

No matter how used they were to stretches of time spent apart, the feeling of being reunited was as heady as it was grounding. No matter how busy she was with ruling Mandalore and taking care of Korkie and Aaliyah, his absence never failed to leave her bereft and cold, an ache she couldn’t shake like the phantom pain of a missing limb. A background throb that was always there, though she could drown it out in the midst of all her responsibilities and pretend that it was nothing. 

It only ever appeared as sharp as when it finally stopped, when they came together once more and the mere sight of him hitched her breath as she finally registered just how much of a void his absence created deep within her chest. It was as if she’d been falling ever since he had left without realizing it until she saw him again, and the knowledge that he would catch her was as obvious as how the night followed the day. 

The “experiment” the Council had started six years ago had been deemed a success, and although many Jedi still preferred celibacy, he was no longer the only one to have a family. Their duties as Jedi had remained virtually the same – alternating missions with leaves and stays at the temple teaching youngling and training – and it became clearly apparent that having a family did not negatively impact the upholding of their responsibilities as Jedi Knights and Masters. 

The discipline of the Jedi training was as rigorous as ever, but more careful attention was given to ensure the mental health and well-being of all members of the order, particularly after difficult missions or trying times. Obi-Wan had told her that emotional hardships used to be, more often than not, dismissed by the proverbial one-size-fits-all solution that was meditation. He’d been glowing as he explained how that had changed, and everyone was learning to be slightly more empathetic to each other, and more importantly, more indulgent. The Code had not changed, but the older version, had slowly taken precedence over its more contemporary form as the moral and spiritual guide. 

It seemed that the change had particularly benefitted Anakin. The greater leniency towards emotions had given the now fifteen-year-old the space he needed to learn how to properly sort through his feelings instead of desperately repressing them in an attempt to fit in. The last time Satine had seen him, he was still soaring through his training, disliking formal studying and sitting still just as much as he did as a ten-year-old, but so much happier than he had seemed the first time she had met him. 

Speaking of which.

“Where is Anakin?” she asked as Obi-Wan led them to a speeder. 

Aaliyah had wedged herself between them and kidnapped both their hands as she walked between them, while Obi-Wan’s other arm had found his way back around their son’s shoulder, the boy looking all the happier for it. 

“He’s with his mother,” Obi-Wan answered while indulging Aaliyah’s wish to be swung up in the air after running, much to Satine’s amusement as she joined in and helped lift her. “She’s been incredibly busy with organizing the conference, and between her tight schedule and us being off planet, they hadn’t seen each other in quite some time. He’s very excited to see you all though.” 

Aaliyah let out a woop as she skipped, and Korkie brightened at the words. 

Satine smiled at their reaction, before nodded knowingly. That conference was precisely the reason why they were here at all – usually it was Obi-Wan who travelled to Mandalore during his leaves, which happened more frequently now that the Council authorized families. 

“How is Shmi?” 

Obi-Wan smiled. “She’s doing well, especially now that her project is finally coming to fruition.”

“I’m glad,” Satine said earnestly as she thought of the woman she had met five years ago, after Obi-Wan and Anakin had been granted permission for an _undercover_ mission on Tatooine to free her. 

The mission had lasted barely a few days before they were off-planet, and they had stopped by Mandalore on the way back. Satine remembered clearly how shaken Obi-Wan had been after that one, and she knew Shmi had noticed too, although she pretended she didn’t. Anakin’s obliviousness was entirely genuine though, too deliriously happy that he was to have his mother free and with him to pay attention to much else. 

After long prodding on her part and expertly well-maneuvered deflections on his, she had managed to get to the bottom of exactly what was bothering him. As it turned out, the only way to achieve Shmi’s freedom was to buy her, thus de facto participating in the pervasive slave trade that continued to plague many planets in the outer rims. 

Although rationally knowing it had been the only way – Satine remembered all too clearly her own horror at learning that attempting to sneak Shmi off planet would have been akin to execute her himself, due to the chip implemented somewhere in her body – it didn’t make Obi-Wan feel any better, knowing that, as laudable as the intention was, they were essentially actively creating demand and playing the sick game of the slavers. 

After spending the three weeks of Obi-Wan and Anakin’s leave on Mandalore, Shmi and the two Jedi had set to return to Coruscant for another one of Anakin’s study term. The Jedi Council had helped Shmi find lodging and before anyone could blink, she had set her own activist organization aimed at ending slavery. 

Satine shouldn’t have been nearly as surprised as she had been to learn that the launch had been funded by then Queen Amidala. The young Queen’s stay on the desert planet had affected her far more than she had let on, and she had sent one of her handmaiden back to attempt to free slaves. Sabé had met Shmi right before Obi-Wan and Anakin arrived on Tatooine, and Shmi had known just who to approach to get help for the cause, even before she landed on Coruscant. 

Satine was drawn out of her musings as they finally arrived in front of the speeder. Aaliyah was deep into the narration of the recent field trip she had gone to with her class, all the while swinging her parents’ arms for and backwards. She’d grown tired of her little game of earlier, although not nearly as early as Satine had expected her to, and she was grateful that Obi-Wan had aided her arm with the Force. He’d winked at her at her amused look, both knowing that was a gross misuse of the Force. 

Obi-Wan grabbed the little girl under the arms – it didn’t prevent her from talking and she kept on detailing the festivities with details a plenty – and settled her in the child’s seat specifically reserved for her, before he fastened the security belt. Satine watched as Korkie fastened his own, before climbing in the passenger seat.  
Before long they were en route to the Senatorial apartment, Obi-Wan humming every once in a while when Aaliyah finally paused to breathe. 

The sun was barely starting its descent, painting the sky in burning shades of orange and red as they bled with softer tones of pink and darkening blue. The city planet was as vibrant as ever, speeders zipping through aerial lanes, neon lights already illuminating the streets as day life slowly melted into nightlife, bringing its own lot of activities and excitement. 

After those intense two weeks she had spent on Coruscant six years ago, Satine had been back many times, each far more enjoyable, and the new memories had slowly overridden the pain-laden days and guilt-ridden nights, until the bustling inherent to the planet no longer brought forth the trauma of that night’s arrival.  
As she relaxed in her seat, allowing her daughter’s chatter to fill the cabin of the speeder, her thoughts drifted back to the upcoming conference, and Shmi’s efforts. 

Far from the small advocacy organization it had been at its launch, Shmi had expertly maneuvered the Senate’s politics and had garnered significant support from many planets, including, among others, Chandrila, Alderaan, Mon Cala, and of course, Naboo. 

Satine knew for a fact that Shmi had been operating behind the scenes as well, helping Sabé set up an underground network from afar that tirelessly worked to remove the chips from the slaves, and when possible, arrange for passage off planet. The organization on Coruscant had enabled her to branch out, and as Shmi stoically worked through the meanders of the bureaucratic and legal disaster that was the Republican Senate with astounding ease, slowly coaxing the most hands-off politicians into adherence to her vision, she continued to support the network from afar, not refraining from calling upon smugglers to enable slaves to get off planet.

This conference was the culmination of years-long effort meant to jerk the Senate into action and make a more proactive stance on slavery, and extrapolate their slavery ban from within the Republic to outside worlds. While not being part of the Republic, Satine had made Mandalore’s stance on slavery as clearly as she did on Mandalore’s warrior past, and her unconditional support to Shmi’s endeavor had prompted many other neutral system to lend a hand as well. 

Hopefully, the conference would set change in motion and the organization, with the open support of so many planets – both part of the Galactic Republic and not –, would obtain the legal means it needed to take more drastic action. 

In the meantime, Satine would ensure she enjoyed the time spent with her family, first on Coruscant for the duration of the Conference, and later on Mandalore for the rest of Obi-Wan’s leave. Her hand drifted to her midsection and she couldn’t help but smile as she thought of the news she needed to share with Obi-Wan. 

“Are you alright?” 

She startled a little, turning a benign smile to her husband without removing her hand from where it was. That would be the surest way to tip him off that something was up and she was adamant not to ruin the surprise. 

He’d asked very quietly, to avoid cutting off Aaliyah who had broached a new topic entirely already, and she answered in the same manner. 

“Just fine, Cyar’ika. Just beginning to feel hungry.”

His searching look morphed into quiet understanding and he smiled. “We can eat dinner early,” he suggested easily and she nodded. 

Obi-Wan stopped the speeder on the apartment complex landing pad and soon enough, they were all out of the transport. 

“And also, also, also, I won the race!” Aaliyah was saying, as she skipped a few steps ahead of them. 

“That’s great sweetheart. Did you have fun?”

She hummed, nodding vehemently. “I ate a lot too!”

Obi-Wan let out a laugh at that. “I’m glad to hear it. What about you Korkie, what did you do in the last few days since we last spoke?”

Korkie had remained silent for the whole duration of his sister’s disjointed retelling of her school festival, simply watching her with the usual fond protectiveness she always elicited out of him. It was always rather sweet, how Korkie enjoyed being the big brother, just as much as he did being the little one, and Satine knew he couldn’t wait to see Anakin again. 

“Not much,” he stated with a small shrug. “School, homework, practice.”

Obi-Wan nodded with a smile, not saying anything else, knowing that Korkie would continue eventually. Rarely did the boy boast about anything he did and Obi-Wan had worked out faster than Satine than the surest way to make him talk was to give him the space to. Too many questions and he would clam up like an oyster. 

“You know that application project for the Royal Academy of Government?” Korkie eventually asked with a furtive look at his father. 

Obi-Wan hummed in invitation after sharing a knowing look with Satine. 

“Well, we received the answers,” he began, voice vibrating from nervousness and excitement. He turned his head, fully facing Obi-Wan as a smile crept on his still childish face. “I got accepted in their summer program as an early applicant.”

Obi-Wan’s face split into a blinding smile as he wound his arm around Korkie’s shoulders, engulfing the boy in a warm embrace. 

“That’s amazing, son! I’m so proud of you,” he said as he kissed the top of their son’s head. Korkie was beaming, his cheeks pink, although he didn’t hide his pleasure at his father’s praise. 

“We had cake to celebrate, but Mama said we’d celebrate again with you!” Aaliyah piped up from where she’d paused in front of the entrance of the complex. 

“That is a very good idea, celebration is important,” Obi-Wan said with an important air that made Aaliyah giggle and Korkie smile. 

“Could we invite Anakin and aunty Shmi?” Korkie asked, head cocked to the side, the exact same way he used to as a toddler. 

“Of course, I’m sure they’d love to join us.”

Satine opened the door to let everyone inside as the children continued to talk back and forth of what they’d been doing in their father’s absence, Korkie’s initial reservation gone now that he’d gotten started. 

Obi-Wan listened intently to them both all the way to the apartment, where he was wrestled to the couch as Aaliyah all but demanded to sit on his lap. Satine sat on the opposite couch, delighted when Korkie came to settle by her side and she wound her arm around his shoulders. 

“I thought we could just order in tonight, since you’re hungry” Obi-Wan suggested when they were afforded a short pause from the children explaining that they’d worked on the Force exercises their father had taught them. 

Satine met his eyes and nodded readily before she smirked. “Does Dex still deliver?”

Obi-Wan pursed his lips to contain the embarrassed smile that crept up on his face and hummed. 

“What is it darling, I thought you _adooored_ Dex?” she prodded mischievously and Obi-Wan’s eyes fluttered as he looked everywhere but at her, and he let out a breathy laugh. 

“Didn’t you get sick the last time we ordered from Dex?” Korkie piped up, looking genuinely confused between his parents. 

“Oh yes,” Satine with exaggerated cheer. “Right after your father discoursed on the merits of Dex’s cuisine for about two hours.”

“He wasn’t there that day, he wasn’t the one who cooked,” came the mumbled reply as Obi-Wan hid his eyes with his hand. 

Satine hummed with an innocent smile, knowing full well that that was the case, but enjoying his embarrassment regardless. Interesting that no matter how many times she indulged in it, he always seemed to fall for it regardless. 

“Can I be the one to order?” Aaliyah asked. “Please, please, please?” 

Obi-Wan deposited a kiss on the top of her blond hair. “If Korkie helps you, then yes.”

“Yay!” she yelped as she wriggled down to the floor, before grabbing her brother’s hand to pull him on his feet. “Come on, come on, come on!”

Korkie let out an exaggerated sigh and pretended to be extra heavy, prompting Aaliyah to repeat her prompts dozens of time until he relented and followed her to the communication central fixed to the wall. 

“What do we order?” 

“If you ask for two specials, we should have enough to share between the four of us,” Obi-Wan answered as he got to his feet. “I better go and check unless we want Aaliyah ordering half the menu.”

Satine laughed as he stopped in front of her first, pressing their lips together for a brief moment before he went to join their children where, despite Korkie’s careful coaching of his little sister on what to say, the girl was already adding several items to the list. 

Satine brought her feet up on the couch and swiveled her upper body to watch Obi-Wan as he tried to grab the phoning device from Aaliyah, and when that failed, coaxing her into changing the order. Resting her elbow on the back of the couch and her head in her hand, she smiled at the tableau, feeling warm giddiness in her chest.

Six years ago, she had been so close to losing everything she loved. Krokie had been dying; Obi-Wan had been as livid as he had been hurt; and she had been close to her breaking point, as everything had seemed to be falling apart around her. 

That nightmare had blurred since then, lost its vividness and tuned down in the background of her mind, slowly chipped off by the layers of new memories overriding the distressing limbo they had been stuck in for the two weeks of Korkie’s treatment. 

“No, no Aaliyah, honey we don’t need ten colo claw fish.”

Satine snorted, earning herself a virulent glare from “The Negotiator”, which effect was lost by the faint desperation over the apparent failure at making their five year old understand the benefits of reason. As talented as Obi-Wan was at negotiation, if there was one being who never failed to make him flail like a fish out of water, it was Aaliyah. 

From the day Satine had announced she was expecting, Obi-Wan had been utterly enamored. To both their greatest pleasure, Obi-Wan had been there through it all – bar a few missions – lavishing her with attention and spending as much time as humanely possible with Korkie. When Aaliyah was born, he had been the first to hold her, and Satine would not soon forget the beaming smile shining through the crystal tears as he held his daughter for the first time.

Her heart had been overflowing with love as, a few days later, she watched Korkie hold his little sister under their father’s watchful gaze. It had barely taken any coaxing for Korkie to come around the fact that he would share his Buir, and the little boy, at three years old, had taken the big brother responsibility with more serious and dedication than most Republican senators took theirs. 

Aaliyah turned out to be as talkative as she was bold, a bubbly and radiant little girl who enjoyed hanging upside down on tree branches as much as she loved flowing skirts. She adored her older brother and worshiped the floor her father walked on, swearing very seriously she would learn to fight with a laser sword just like his one day. 

Seeing her cling to the phoning device and managing to evade all her father’s attempts to retrieve it, Satine more fully understood why Obi-Wan was sagely refraining from teaching her more than meditation and simple Force techniques just yet. 

Her gaze drifted to their son, watching the pair with an expression Satine knew he meant stern but only managed to be amusing on his still childish features. With his auburn hair and gray-blue eyes, he seemed to look more and more like his father as time passed, and as he stood there with his arms crossed and a raised eyebrow directed at the comic duo, the striking resemblance was made all the more remarkable. 

He noticed her looking and he relaxed his stance, shrugging with an adorable “what can I do” pout that made her smile softly. He turned back to his sister and father when he heard the phoning device being shut off. 

Obi-Wan looked like he’d run a marathon as he let out an exasperated breath, while Aaliyah looked far too smug for a five year old.

“Off you go, princess,” he intoned as he lowered her to the floor from the stool she’d been sitting on and she darted away. 

Satine send him an amused look and he shook his head fondly, before their eyes drifted back to the children already setting the table. 

The food arrived – with the ten colo claw fish, to Obi-Wan’s despair – and they were soon all gathered around the table, enjoying their first meal together since Obi-Wan had left the last time. The room was filled with mindless chatter, bubbling laughter and familiar teasing and Satine couldn’t help but marvel at it. 

Exhausted by the hyperspace travel, Aaliyah fell asleep in her arms, and while Korkie battled slumber valiantly, it wasn’t long before he lost the fight too and Obi-Wan had to carry his son to bed. 

Satine pressed a kiss on her daughter’s forehead once she’d tucked the little girl under the covers, and moved on to do the same to Korkie while Obi-Wan went to kiss Aaliyah. The room was quiet, the only sound breaking the silence being the rhythmic, slow breathings of the two children. 

She smiled when she felt him come behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her against him. She leaned back a he kissed her neck reverently, before he simply rested his head against hers. 

“I’m really happy to see you,” he whispered for the sake of the slumbering children. “I always sleep better when you’re here.” She felt her lips curl up, giddy pleasure in her stomach.

She turned in his arms, reaching up to wound her arms around his neck. She found his eyes easily, shining with the same love she felt nestled in every fiber of her being. 

“Me too. I couldn’t rest at all this week.”

No matter that there was another reason why she had barely been able to rest, but her point still stood. Her thoughts drifted to what she wanted to tell him and she felt her insides clench in anticipation, her smile widening. 

He must have sensed something, for his head drew back, and he smiled suspiciously, giving her a searching look under frowning brows. 

“What is it?”

Her smile only widened. 

“I’m just happy,” she stated slowly, as if she tasted the words. She didn’t need to, though. She meant them with all her heart, and had ever since he’d kissed her the second they had stepped out of the Council chambers six years ago. 

He looked pleased, if only a hint of skepticism remaining in his eyes. She knew that look, and she knew she wouldn’t be able to hide the news very long. Not that she intended to, she’d virtually been unable to sleep properly from the excitement ever since she’d found out. 

“I’m happy too,” he said at last, leaning to kiss her, lingering on her lips and Satine deepened it on instinct, her body falling into the overwhelming feeling with familiar ease. 

He made a noise in the depth of his throat and Satine broke the contact, making him whine softly. She chuckled and pressed her lips in a chaste kiss one last time before she ventured her hand down his arm until she reached his hand and got ahold of it. 

She stepped out of his embrace, leading him out of the room with an inviting gaze that was enough to jerk him into action. Before she could blink, he was carrying her bridal style down the hall to their bedroom and Satine thought she could keep her secret just a little while longer. 

***

Satine laid half on Obi-Wan chest, her face pressed just below his neck and her hand resting on his chest as his arms were wrapped around her. She let out a contented sigh, her eyes closed and her entire body relaxed as she relished in his warmth and his scent. 

He shifted minutely before she felt a kiss being pressed in her hair. She let out a breathy chuckle, turning up her head up so that she would meet his lips. He greeted her eagerly, yet softly, and despite sensing no ulterior motives, her stomach coiled and she smiled on his lips. 

As he broke the kiss, he raised his hand, reverently tracing the contours of her face like she was made of porcelain, his eyes shining with unnamed emotions she nonetheless understood. 

“I love you,” she breathed when his fingers trailed over her lips and he let out a soft, shuddery gasp. 

He shook his head, eyes drinking in her face with the same adoration he’d freely bestowed upon her ever since that day. 

“I love you too. So much,” he whispered breathlessly as if he couldn’t really believe how much and although she smiled, she observed him intently. “Sometimes I still wonder if I haven’t imagined it all; if when I wake up, it will all have been a dream.”

His eyes were vaguely veiled with genuine bafflement mixed with thinly concealed fear, and Satine pursed his lips, as the memories of years-old nightmares came unbidden in her mind. 

They had plagued Obi-Wan’s sleep every night without fail for weeks after the Council’s decision. She would startle awake by Obi-Wan jerking forward from the dreadful dream in a cold sweat, all gasping breaths and mad heartbeat, his face drenched in tears. 

It had abated with time, slowly edging away and as more time passed, they had put the worries to rest, one step at a time, by talking of their anxieties before they could eat them up alive. They had embarked this new time of their life, navigating through the highs and lows as best they could. They laughed until they cried and cried until they laughed; switched from exasperation to worry in a split second and back again; butted heads more time that they could count, made up just as many times and forgot the cause of the argument halfway through said arguments more often than not. But underneath it all, pulsing through both of them, they loved. Loved deeply and intensely, close and from afar, through the tempest and under the sun. 

She reached up, mirroring his earlier action and traced his face before cupping his cheek and she felt him relax as she drew her thumb across his cheek.

“But then I think of your smile when we dance, of Korkie’s intensely focused expression that looks so much like yours and of Aaliyah’s crystal laugh, and I’m _happy_. Anakin is doing marvelously, even more so now that he has his mother to talk to, and I can still try and improve that tumultuous galaxy of ours, one step at a time.”

He paused, a fleeting smile appearing on his lips. “I think of how much I love you all and I’m happy.” 

She could see it. The same awe that overcame her, for barely a moment, when the morning sun filtering through the blinds bathed the room in warmth, and the world was quiet still. Such a precious moment that burned bright in her chest and she could only marvel at the turn their life had taken. 

That awe was reflected in his eyes now, as he stared at her like she was the most precious, beautiful thing he’d ever seen and she smiled, her heart missing a beat.  
“I don’t think I could ever forget how close I was to lose everything,” she stated so quietly it was a wonder he heard her. She didn’t doubt he had though, for his eyes sobered a little with a hint of sadness that she immediately wanted to smooth away. She smiled, shaking her head before depositing a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth. 

“I don’t want to forget.” He looked stunned for a second, eyebrows climbing to his hairline. “The pain has subdued and those memories have lost their shine. I don’t want to forget, for I am reminded every day how easily I could have lost it all. How easily this,” she said emphatically as she pressed her hand a little more against the side of his face. “could have never been.”

Understanding flooded his face and he took in a deep breath. 

“I couldn’t be more grateful for what we have. For Korkie and for Aaliyah; and Anakin too. For being able to still be who we need to be, a Jedi and the duchess of Mandalore. I never want to take this for granted and forget for even one second, to cherish it.” 

He smiled softly at her, and Satine felt her chest tighten with the strength of her emotions. She stared deeply in his eyes, beckoning his attention as she removed her hand to grab his, amused at his faint pout as she made him pull away from her cheek. 

She placed it on her stomach, covering his hand with hers, her gaze focused on his face as she observed his reaction. Confusion spread on his features as he stared at their hands. 

“I’m grateful,” she repeated meaningfully, and his eyes snapped to hers wildly, lips parting as he seemed to found the answer he was looking for on her face.  
“Really?” he breathed out as if he feared the words would shatter if he spoke them too loudly. She couldn’t contain the smile blooming on her face as his eyes misted when she nodded. 

“Oh.” He let out a strangled sound, halfway between a sob and a laugh as he maneuvered himself lower and kissed her stomach reverently. Satine laughed, petting his hair. 

He looked up after a little while, staring at her face for a moment, his eyes filled with tears before he pushed himself up and bent to press their lips together, stealing her breath away. 

“I love you so much,” he said as he pulled away, setting his forehead against hers and Satine felt lightheaded. 

Satine’ throat was tight with emotions. “I love you too.”

He smiled, a tear rolling down his cheek as he lifted a hand to caress her face and she swallowed at the love she could practically taste in the air. He lied back down and she went willingly when he wrapped his arms around her once more, and pulled her up against him. She closed her eyes, intermingling her legs with his and he tightened his embrace. 

As she drifted away, feeling safe and content and _happy_ , Satine smiled; hopeful and no longer afraid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end! :D
> 
> I tried to tie up all loose ends in this epilogue, while focusing on their little fam! 
> 
> I didn't cover all the sh*t with Palpatine because, honestly, it was too big of a fish to fry for this fic (and me); but I dare say that his plans regarding Anakin might find themselves being more than a little compromised, considering Ani's current support system and an overall better mental health! 
> 
> **  
> Aaliyah is a variation of the name Aliyah, which means “rising” in Hebrew and “exalted” in Arabic. I really love how it sounds, and I thought it fit rather well with the rest of the names. 
> 
> Cyar'ika (the endearment Satine uses for Obi-Wan) means - darling, beloved, sweetheart  
> **
> 
> I really enjoyed writing this fic - even if I seriously butted heads with myself trying to get it right - and I hope you enjoyed reading it too!! 
> 
> Thank you all again for reading, leaving kudos and comments! They always make my day! <3  
> Don't hesitate to let me know what you thought, I love to read you! <3 
> 
> Thank you all again, lots of love and stay safe! <3

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed it! Don't hesitate to let me know what you think!


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